Hidden in Obscurity
by LostinOblivion
Summary: A decision to help someone involved in a negotiation forces Matt and Emily to flee L.A. FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

Emily turned the knob in the shower with a considerable amount of hostility, ending the rush of cool water against her body, and jumped from the shower, wrapping a towel around her shaking body. Their shower water wasn't hot, really it wasn't even warm, and the electric heat, lacking as it was, left the apartment with a brisk chill.

She missed California, she missed her job, she missed her life. This was the fifth or sixth shit-hole apartment that her and Matt had stayed in. At the moment the crappy little roach magnets provided everything the couple was looking for: a landlord who asked few questions and accepted cash, a month-to-month rent plan, and anonymity. The last of these was the most important.

This was their seventeenth month of hiding. At least she was pretty sure it was seventeen, sometimes it felt like they'd been gone so long that everything just blended together. But, she was pretty sure that it was seventeen months ago that she and Matt had each thrown a bag together and fled town, with not only a group of gunrunners after them, but also but Homeland Security, the CIA, and even their own FBI after them. And quite possibly the military.

The gunrunners were interested in capturing and/or killing Matt and Emily (ultimately, they kill them anyway) for revenge; two of their members had been killed during a negotiation with Matt and Emily. The CIA, Homeland Security (and maybe the military) were pissed that they broken a kid they thought was involved in the group out of a federal prison, and the FBI was pissed that the agents embarrassed them in front of everyone else. Needless to say, it was a miracle they hadn't been found or killed yet.

This is what led Emily to her current position freezing her ass off in an east coast winter, in a tiny, smelly, rat and roach filled apartment. Matt would have been freezing his ass off too, but he was at his less than legitimate job, down at the docks. In the last almost a year and a half they had a variety of questionable occupations; basically they'd take anything that paid by the hour, and didn't request an ID before hiring. That didn't leave them with too much that didn't make them stretch their ethics.

However, Matt had firmly drawn the line at stripper. When she'd suggested that in a moment of complete desperation, he'd practically blown his top. He swore to her that he'd go crawling back to the FBI begging for a deal or whatever, before let her degrade herself that way. Her response had been to tell him that it 'wasn't like it was prostitution,' which unfortunately upset him even more. He'd told her that he wouldn't allow her to spend 50 hours a week being fondled by a bunch of sleazeballs sticking cash in her panties.

A large part of her had been relieved; she wasn't prepared to go that far yet. Instead she was working as a secretary for the escort service run out of a different strip club. Her job pretty much consisted of booking the girls or 'bitches' as her boss called them, and collecting the cash, or on rare occasion taking credit card numbers, which were run through the bar register.

They were in Boston now, where they'd been for three months. They started their nomad life in Ensenada, a Mexican city south of Tijuana, where they lived for five months, before moving again, through Mexico and up into Texas. They'd stayed in Waco for two months before leaving again, this time landing in Memphis, and another two months there, three more in Atlanta, then Roanoke for two, before landing in Boston. They had different names each time, and at first different wigs and different eye color, but they'd stopped that once they got to Roanoke. It was too hard to remember who they were in whatever city they were in.

Emily finished blow drying her hair, which in her frigid apartment had come close to freezing, and began pulling clothes out of her drawer. Throwing on jeans and a sweater, she applied enough makeup to keep her looking slightly more alive than a zombie, and grabbed her purse. Tossing her keys in her bag, she pulled open the apartment door and was nearly run over by a very frantic Matt, who looked at her surprised seeing her right in front of the door.

"Forget about work Emily, we have to go, now." He told her, dragging her back to the bedroom to pack.

"What?" she asked desperately, "what happened?"

"I saw a guy I know at the docks. I can't be sure he recognized me, but we can't take the chance. We need to leave now." He told her, pulling out their suitcases.

"Alright," she sighed, resignation filling her voice. Hearing the tone of her voice, Matt stopped his frantic moves, and went over to her, holding her arms, and looking into her eyes.

"I know you didn't want to move again so soon, and I know you hate this. I do too, but we know they won't care why we let him go, they'll just throw us in prison. I don't want to go to prison, and I sure as hell won't watch you go to prison." He told her, determination filling his eyes.

"I know Matt, I'm just so tired of this, all of this," she said hopelessly, throwing her purse on to the bed and grabbing her suitcase to pack.

"Hey, only one more time, okay? I'll find us a boat that will get us to somewhere they can't extradite us. I know I said I'd do that here, but we don't have enough money yet to pay them. A little longer, and then I promise, we can stop running, stop hiding." Matt's eyes held pain in them, as he took all the blame for their current situation.

Emily knew this, and tried to tell him a thousand times that they were both responsible for their situation. Of course it didn't make a difference, so now Emily simply wrapped her arms around him, holding him as close as she could, hoping to convey through this that she didn't blame him.

Moments later they released each other and performed the same packing tasks they'd done so many times in the last year and a half, they'd become increasingly monotonous. Tossing clothing into their suitcases-they each carried one-collecting toiletries and such, and stowing away the two or three keepsakes they'd been carrying around since they left California. Matt dug out the wad of cash they'd kept hidden inside the base of a lamp and stowed half of it deep in his suitcase, and handed her the other half to hide in hers.

Sighing tiredly Emily squashed her suitcase down and tugged at the zipper until it allowed itself to be brought around the length of the case sealing it shut. She righted the device on the floor, yanking up the handle so she could wheel it around, and turned toward Matt who'd finished only moments before her. The pair joined hands, and like they had so many times before, took one last look at the place that had become their home, and walked out, knowing they'd never be back.

They waited thirty minutes for a bus to come, the number 37 bus would take them to a subway entrance, and for the last time went through the ghetto that had become their neighborhood. They went down a flight of dirty steps that smelled of urine to one of Boston's less glamorous subway stations. The poorer the neighborhood, the less upkeep the station received. Dropping the tokens into the machines, they went to stand on the subway platform and waited for their train to come.

As they took their seats on the loud subway, Matt wrapped his arm around Emily, trying to give them a sense of the security that they both sorely lacked. The train screeched into Boston's main station, that had all the glory that most of the others were lacking, and from there caught the Amtrak to New York. They had to wait another thirty minutes for that to come, and then it would be a three and a half hours on the train.

The train seats were much more plush than the subway, and the couple was able to get a couple hours of nervous sleep. A man came by with a snack cart every so often and half an hour away from Manhattan, Matt and Emily gratefully paid for two cups of coffee. After sipping the scalding beverage and talking quietly for a while, the conductors voice came on announcing that they'd finally arrived in the city. The train stopped and a small crowd formed at the cabin exit, pushing and piling into each other in an effort to get out of the train. There had been few people on the train, it being near four o'clock in the morning at that point, but they still acted like something would pull them back into the small cabin if they didn't get out quick enough. Matt and Emily however, remained in their seats.

"New York doesn't seem like a great idea." Emily said flatly.

"Yeah, you're right. It doesn't feel right." Matt commented as the train pulled out of the station, the couple still on it.

"Philadelphia should be the next big city we hit, we can get lost there…" she said absently.

"Did you go there at all when you were at Princeton?"

"Sometimes, it was only a few minutes closer than New York, so we ended up in Manhattan more often. But I still remember Philly a little. It's been a while…" Emily was staring out the window as she spoke to him.

"Philadelphia sounds good, maybe there we'll have enough time to get the money we need to get out of here." He told her, grabbing her hand and giving it a light squeeze.

"How much do we have?"

"Around $3500. Another six months or so, we should have enough to leave."

"How much do we need to get on a boat?" Their voices had become very low, as they whispered about their very illegal plans.

"Six thousand if we're lucky. Part of that for fare, part is a bribe for whoever will take us and keep their mouth closed." Emily nodded at Matt, and yawned, leaning over and kissing him, before resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer, and rested his head against hers. They slept fitfully until the train shuddered and pulled into Philadelphia's 30th street station.

Disembarking with their suitcases they wandered until Emily dove into her memory and got her bearings, leading them toward one of the cheaper hotels. There they'd have just enough time to get some sleep before heading back out into the city, looking for a questionable apartment, and likely, more questionable jobs.

Their hotel was on the outskirts of a nicer section of the history referred to most as University City. Those familiar with the city knew that you could take one step off the Drexel University campus here, and you'd be in the University of Pennsylvania, an Ivy League school. Both colleges were private, so there was plenty of money to keep the area in tiptop shape for the trust fund babies who inevitably went there.

Their hotel was way on the outskirts though, as the only hotels that would take them at this hour (way before traditional checkout hours) were the fleabags that rented by the hour. They handed the shady-looking clerk enough for six hours; they sleep for six hours, and be back on the streets searching for housing and jobs by one o'clock.

They let their now-worn suitcases drop to the floor, ignoring the stained carpet and went immediately over to the bed. Choosing to pretend that there wouldn't be traces from dozens of sexual escapes on the worn, tan sheets, they fell onto the bed. Only to find themselves staring at a warped and water damaged ceiling that extended in certain parts to the discolored walls. They were way too tired to care, and soon fell asleep.

By midnight they were moving into their umpteenth low rent apartment. They become pros at locating landlords who took cash, didn't demand the traditional first and last month rent and security deposit, and asked no questions. Their tiny little apartment had a kitchen with enough room for them to walk around, and behind it a bedroom big enough to house a bed, dresser, and desk. It was of course, already furnished. It was located in a section of the city known as North Philly, across the river (that being the Schukyll) from West Philadelphia, where University City was located.

It certainly wasn't considered a safe area, but those who lived in it knew it was safer than other areas of the city. In a time when the murder rate was continually on the rise in this particular city, you could never be too safe. It was perhaps not quite poverty-stricken, but still very much a ghetto. With broken down and abandoned building sprinkled throughout, garbage strewn all over the streets, broken sidewalks that were actually missing large chunks in some areas, and of course drug corners within walking distance.

Perhaps the most intriguing part of their new neighborhood were the words stenciled on row house next to the building that held their apartment. Toward the bottom of the house, stenciled white on a blue background were the words "Somebody Cares." The words seemed to be mocking the people that lived there, it was clear from the litter and broken bottles that nobody had cared for a long time.

That night they laid in bed, spooned tightly together, trying to forget where they were and why, so they could get even a fraction of sleep. It wasn't an easier thing to do, especially after they heard the hollow bang of gunfire in the distance.

* * *

I've had this lying around forever, waiting for me to figure out if I liked it enough to post. Indecisive person that I am, I'll let my readers decide for me- if I see interest, I post. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**17 Months and three days ago**

Matt and Emily waited nervously for the gunshots they knew were coming; Matt still quietly spoke to the leader of the small group of HTs, distracting him long enough for HRT get a few good rounds off into him and his cronies. They hated when it came to this, partly because it meant that they failed, but mostly because it meant that people would die. Crack-Crack-Crack-Crack-scream-Crack-Crack-Crack. The two flinched with every sound of a gun discharging a bullet.

Cheryl stood behind them, watching them flinch. She knew how much having send in HRT to take out the HTs bothered them, but they had no choice. This wasn't just the FBI handling another crisis situation- this time the CIA and Homeland Security had been breathing down her neck. The four or five HTs (they weren't sure how many there were) were the lower men on the totem poll in an organization of gunrunners that supplied to Africa and the Middle East. Their hostages were the patrons of a department store, where the joint FBI-CIA-HS taskforce had chased the men, who were heavily armed with their own merchandise.

Matt had been talking to them for way too many hours, and they just weren't budging, convinced of the holiness of their mission, and blatantly unafraid to die. They would make the world see their viewpoint, even if it was at the cost of thirty innocent lives. With the CIA and HS getting antsy behind them, Cheryl was left with no choice. She told Matt to keep the leader distracted and sent HRT in.

Now people streamed out of the building, the rest of HRT taking the hostages aside to get statements and get examined before releasing them. After the hostages, two men were led out in hand cuffs, two on gurneys, and one in a body bag. Evidently the two had surrendered easily after a few had gotten shot, and one had refused to back down to the point where HRT had to kill him.

However, there was something strange about the two in handcuffs, one was in his thirties, dressed in the red and black gang colors and lots of ink, and had a defiant look in his eyes, as if a minute away from telling the FBI to go to hell. They expected that. The other couldn't have been more than twenty or twenty-one, was also wearing black and red, and an inked armband, but looked absolutely terrified.

An hour later Matt and Emily were in with a CIA agent and a HS agent, questioning the first guy. Well, questioning would have meant that there was actually some give and take going on, but that wasn't the case. They'd ask questions, first coaxingly, then pleadingly, then threateningly, but all the man did was repeat the he was sneer at them, and laugh at their threats.

Leaving him after another of hour of no progress, they moved on to the kid, who still looked frightened and confused.

"Alright kid, what's your name?" The CIA agent asked

"Alex Diallo," he told them immediately.

"How did you get involved with this people Jhalak?" The CIA agent asked impatiently.

"I'm not. I was a hostage. I never met them before today!" He pled.

"Sure you didn't. What are the names of your buddies?"

"I told you I don't know them. I just went to the store to get a new coffeemaker, my broke this morning."

"Come on kid, you can't fool us. You're wearing the same gang colors. Just tell us about your buddies and we'll see to it that the U.S. attorneys give you leniency." The CIA agent continued to press, while Matt and Emily looked on, not as sure about Alex's guilt.

"I don't know them I swear!"

"Alright, how about you tell us a little about yourself?" Emily suggested, trying to cut the kid some slack.

"Like what?"

"How about what you spend your days doing? Do you work?"

"I have a job on UCLA's campus, where I go to school. I work in their library in between classes, and I'm in the Pre-med club and honors society. I have my UCLA ID in my backpack, which you guys have now, it'll prove I'm not lying." He assured them.

"You want to be a doctor then?" Emily continued questioning him, the CIA agent seemingly content to let her take the reigns for a while. Matt quietly left the room momentarily to ask someone to track down Alex's bag.

"Yeah, I want to be a surgeon I think. I'm not totally set on my specialty yet, that's what we go through rotations in Med school for. But, I like science, especially biology." He said eagerly, more comfortable talking about his school plans.

"What classes are you taking now?"

"Uh, organic chem., anatomy and physiology, virology II, and English composition II. I still have a few of my required courses to get out of the way before I graduate."

"Where are you from Alex?" She asked him gently.

"San Francisco. Listen, I swear I'm not involved with those people." He insisted. There was a knock out the door and Matt poked his head out, coming back in with a school bag in his hands. He began pulling things out of it.

"Pens, pencils, one UCLA ID issued to a Alexander Diallo- picture matches, a wallet, California driver's license, picture also matches. Debit card, some cash, library card, and a ticket stub from…an art museum. Then we also "Virology and Pathology a Modern Study," that sounds like a wild read, and "Crime and Punishment." Damn their making you read Dostoevsky for an English comp class? That's just cruel." Matt commented as he continued pulling out two notebooks and a thick folder.

"I've never had such a hard time following a book in my life." The kid muttered, offering a scathing look at the paperback.

"Well that explains the Cliff's notes than," Matt said with a smirk Alex looked mildly embarrassed.

"You ever read that?" He asked Matt.

"Thank god no. She probably has though- she's the smart one." He said pointing to Emily.

"I didn't read that, but I did read "The Idiot," and that was enough Dostoevsky for me." Emily said with a smile, trying to keep up the rapport with Alex.

"I prefer my organic chemistry class to that, and that's one of my hardest classes."

"I don't blame you. Alex, can you answer something honestly for me?" Emily asked him gently.

"Yeah, I can do that." He nodded nervously.

"Good, I appreciate that. When did you first meet the men that we arrested today?"

"Today when they waved their guns in our faces. I told you that already."

"Your being completely honest with me right?" Emily coaxed.

"Yes. I don't know them. I'm not involved with them. I just needed a new coffeemaker. Constant studying demands a constant fresh supply of caffeine to keep me going. That's it." He desperately tried to assure them.

"Alright. Thank you Alex. We're just going to ask you to wait here while we talk a minute." She told him kindly, signally the group that they needed to leave the room and talk.

"That kid isn't a gang." She immediately said once the door closed behind them.

"I agree, I don't think he was involved." Matt quickly added.

"I'm not so sure, I've seen people lie really well." The HS agent finally opened his mouth.

"I agree with him, I've seen people lie better." The CIA told them.

"That kid is terrified, you really think he's lying?" Matt asked.

"I don't know, but I'm not willing to take that chance yet. We need to question him further."

"You know we only have this kid detained because he's black and happens to be wearing red and black, otherwise he would have been released with the rest of the hostages." Emily bit at him.

"Be that as it may, the CIA will still be taking him into our custody." The agent shrugged at them, before they all piled back into the room.

"Alexander Diallo, the CIA is formerly taking you into custody. You have the right to remain silent, and the right to an attorney, if you can't afford an attorney, one will be provided for you." The agent said completely deadpan as he slapped a pair of handcuffs on Jhalak.

"Will I have access to a phone?" He looked at the four federal agents nervously.

"Maybe. Why you already have a lawyer in mind?"

"No, I always call my mother on Wednesdays and Sundays. She'll get worried if I don't call." He said sheepishly.

Matt and Emily both shot the CIA agent sideways looks.

"Well, she should worry. You're in a lot of trouble. Does she know what you're into?"

"I'm not into that, so no. I swear I didn't do anything." He told them helplessly.

"Relax kid, you play your cards right, maybe you won't end up in prison." Alex looked desperately at Matt and Emily, begging them with his eyes.

Unfortunately, they couldn't do anything but glare at the CIA agent.

The next day they drove out to the federal penitentiary to see how Alex was holding up. They'd tracked down his mother and explained what was going, and the poor woman sobbed on Emily's shoulder for a half hour, until her husband came home and tried to comfort her. They told the distraught couple that they believed their son was innocent and they'd do everything they could to be sure he was released. How they were going to accomplish that was anybody's guess.

They flashed their badges, handed over their guns, signed the sign-in sheet, and were buzzed into a hallway lined with cells. Walking past the cells Emily was greeted by whistles and catcalls, and she could feel Matt restraining himself beside her. They got past the cells to a smaller area where they kept the prisoners who were put by themselves for various reasons. A guard let them into Alex's cell, where he raised himself from his crappy little bed, and they could see him wince as he moved. Evidently the CIA agent had kept his word and questioned him further, using some unethical tactics.

"Can you guys get me out of here?" He begged them.

"We're working on it. We went to see your parents." Emily said, sitting down beside him.

"Were they upset?"

"Yeah, very. Your mother assured us that you wouldn't be involved in anything like this."

"I didn't do anything, but they just won't believe me," he whined pathetically. Matt and Emily looked at him sympathetically, not sure how they were going to help him.

Matt suddenly noticed that Alex had started crying. "Alex, man, it's not that bad, we'll get you out of here."

"The CIA agent said because the guys from yesterday supplied guns to the Middle East, it can be considered a war crime. He said he was having me transferred to Guantanamo Bay tomorrow." His eyes were filled with hopeless fear.

Matt and Emily looked at each other wide-eyed, they hadn't thought the CIA would go this far. Matt got the guards attention to open the door again. "Alex we're going to have a talk with the agent now, alright? We'll sort this out."

Emily gave Alex's shoulder a little squeeze and followed Matt out.

However, they were on their way to his cell once again at nine o'clock that night, after a monumentally unsuccessful negotiation with the CIA agent. He'd pretty much told them that he and his superiors had already made that decision and to fuck off. Now as they walked, both knowing that what they were planning on doing could be considered magnificently stupid, and career-derailing. But, they'd already made their decision two hours ago, and prepared for it since then, steeling their nerves in the car ride over.

They handed the warden manufactured paperwork, which he examined and handed back to them. After he called back to his guards to bring Alex up, so they could take him, and as far as he knew, transfer him to another facility. Both of them knew if Alex was taken to Guantanamo Bay, he'd spend years there, without his constitutionally promised attorney, no trial, no right against cruel and unusual punishment, and probably never being formally charged. Like so many people there already.

Thanking the warden, they put their own cuffs on Alex and escorted him to their SUV, taking the cuffs on him, once they got him in the car. They drove away, not speaking again until they were several miles from the prison.

"Have you ever been to Mexico Alex?" Emily asked quietly.

"No, I haven't. What's going on?"

"Your parents are going to meet us just before the border with a suitcase of your things, your passport and some money. Then we're taking you across. You'll be safe there, you'll be able to get lost there. They won't find you." She told him, staring out her window.

"You two just broke me out of jail?" He asked bewildered.

"Yeah, it was our only option," Matt answered.

"And you're going to sneak me across the border?" He clearly wasn't expecting that from them.

"Don't sound so shocked, just trust us for the next few hours," Matt smiled at him in the rearview mirror. Truth was, at this point they couldn't go back if they wanted to.

They reached a rest stop two miles from the border just before eleven, where Alex collected his things and said goodbye to his parents. Then they crossed the border, which was easy enough with passports, and dropped him off at a smallish town ten miles into the country.

"Thank you so much, for everything. I don't really know what to say…you're both going to get in a lot of trouble for this. Just…thank you," he said before hugging Emily and shaking Matt's hand, and walking off to find a hotel to stay in for the night.

Matt and Emily didn't stay long to watch him leave, they would have hell to pay no matter when they returned, so they figured they may as well face the music sooner rather than later.

They got back to Emily's apartment just after three in the morning, fully expecting to find an arsenal of CIA agents or worse military, and were surprised when there was none. Emily put her key in the door and went to unlock it, surprised when it was already unlocked. They both pulled out their guns, nervous now, as Emily pushed the door open, flicking the light open the look in her living room.

Nothing was amiss. The bright lights showed the room just as she'd left it, so they continued on, guns drawn. Emily took her bedroom, and Matt headed for the kitchen. Emily was pulling her bathroom door open, confirming that nobody was hiding in her shower, when she heard Matt curse loudly from the kitchen. She flew out of her bedroom, worried now.

There was Matt standing at the edge of her kitchen staring at a blood-covered corpse resting in the middle of it. It was the CIA agent, dead on her kitchen tiles. _Oh shit…what the hell…who would have…why was he even here? _A dozen thoughts ran through her head at once, while her heart pounded wildly at the implications of a body on her floor.

"I think our problems just got a whole lot bigger," Matt commented sardonically.

"Matt they're never going to believe we didn't kill him after we helped Alex escape." Emily warned him.

"Yeah, I know. I think we need to think about getting out of here."

"What? You mean like running?" She asked shocked.

"Yeah Em, you said yourself they won't believe us. We'll get murder charges added to whatever we were already getting," he told her seriously.

"Yeah, okay, I'll…I'll pack a bag. Then we can go to your place so you can pack one," she spoke absently still staring at the body on her kitchen floor.

Matt nodded to her, as she left to go back to her bedroom to pack a suitcase. Neither were really thinking too much about the reality of their situation, they were just kind of going through the motions, too deep in shock for anything else.

Three hours later the duo crossed the border to Mexico for the second time in less than twelve hours. In two more days they were settled in Ensenada, beginning their life of hiding.

---

The next day in the CNU

"You think they did what?!" Cheryl demanded incredulously of the CIA people in front of her.

"The broke a felon out of prison and killed one of our agents when he went to confront them on it. Actually we figure it was Lehman that killed him, he was found at her apartment," the CIA agent in charge of the west coast bureau explained to her.

"You're nuts. Emily doesn't kill people, and neither does Matt, by the way. And they don't go breaking people out of jail. Who'd they supposedly break out?"

"Alexander Diallo, the kid from the situation two days ago. They were convinced the kid was innocent."

"Then maybe I can believe they would have done the jailbreak, but killing people? Matt and Emily hate it when we have to shoot HTs, they wouldn't kill somebody. That I can promise you."

"Where are they then?" He said looking around.

"I don't know, they haven't come in yet," Cheryl answered, not looking at the CIA agent. Truth was she was wondering the same thing, had been for the last few hours. Just as she was wondering this a mail clerk ran in with a inter-office envelope for her. In the sending department blank it said 'M & E', so she put on her best casual face, and opened the envelope, scanning the letter inside.

_Cheryl,_

_We didn't kill anybody, but we knew they'd never believe us. _

_We're on our way to nowhere now. It's been great. We'll miss everyone._

_Matt and Emily_

Short, sweet, and to the point, and giving away very little. Though Cheryl did notice that they never said they didn't break that kid out of prison; that didn't shock her. Leave it to Matt and Emily to risk their careers and quite possibly freedom, to protect a kid they didn't even know.

"You got something good there?"

"No, just a note from my HRT agents. Nothing important. Where were we?"

"Lehman and Flannery, where are they?" He asked.

"Honestly, I don't have a clue, but if I was them, I'd choose somewhere warm." The agents glared at her before leaving.

* * *

The rest of the story will be in present time, I just figured a step back would be the best way to explain what they did to get themselves in trouble. Thanks reading and reviewing!


	3. Chapter 3

**Present Time- Nine Weeks Later**

Matt smacked the buzzer that screamed at him that it was time to get up and go to work. He had grown to hate that sound because that meant that he had to detach himself from Emily and crawl out of his nice warm bed, slap on some clothes, and risk getting shot going into work at this hour. They both had to be at work at nine p.m., as they somehow managed to find jobs at the same underground casino.

Emily worked as a dealer four nights a week, and as bookie for sporting events, writing down bets and collecting money for football and baseball games, and such for two more. He preferred the nights she did this, because it wasn't mandated that she wear a top that pushed her cleavage high. They had her dress like this when she worked as a dealer to give the, mostly men, she dealt to an optimal view of her breasts when she leaned over to retrieve cards.

Matt stood at the door as a bouncer three days a week, and the other three he worked crowd control at the boxing matches they hosted three days a week. Emily preferred when he worked the door, he just stood there looking threatening, and occasionally threw some idiot out on to the street. The crowds at the boxing matches tended to get a little uppity, and often tried to maul the people preventing them from mauling the fighters. One night Matt got thrown in as a fighter because one guy got shot the night before and they couldn't find a replacement. Matt had never boxed. Emily was completely appalled when she found him bloody, bruised, and half-delirious from the hefty beating he took. Their bosses did give him the next two nights off though, after thanking him for filling in.

Tonight was a night that they'd both hate; Emily was dealing Blackjack, and Matt was on crowd control for a big boxing match. Lil' Ben and Tommy G. were fighting tonight, both were undefeated, so the match would be very rowdy. This also meant that until the match started at two o'clock, the tables would be bustling, and sleazy guys would be grabbing Emily's ass for hours. Needless to say, they'd both gotten used to showering as soon as they got home; Matt was always covered in sweat and often blood spatter, while Emily felt slimly after people spent the night touching her and staring at her breasts.

Now Matt rolled over and placed a soft kiss on her temple, offering her a sweeter wake-up call than the obnoxious alarm clock. She stirred slightly, and more as his lips continued moving toward her mouth. By the time he'd planted his mouth on hers she was fully awake, wrapping her arms around his head and pulling him closer.

He moaned softly before breaking the kiss, and wrapping an arm around her and resting his head against her back, before speaking softly, "Time to get up, we have to get to work."

"Hate work, and it's way too damn cold for March," she mumbled back at him, resting her arm over his, and pulling it tighter around herself.

"I agree, but Georgie isn't going to be happy if we don't show up on one of the biggest nights…besides just think of the tips you'll get tonight."

"This fight makes me nervous, the crowds will be at least twice as big, and ten times as obnoxious, what if you get hurt?"

"I'll be fine."

She let out a distinctly unconvinced sigh.

"Hey," he turned her face toward himself, "if I can get through a fight as a replacement fighter, then I can certainly make it through this fight as a crowd guard."

"I know," she pouted, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Yeah, and I don't like the drooling over your chest and ass-grabbing, but we're both still doing it, aren't we?"

She sighed miserably in response, as they both dragged themselves out from underneath the warm, multiple layers of blankets, and into the chill of a poorly ventilated apartment. Yawning, grumbling, and stumbling, they repeated their actions of the last two months, getting ready to face the dark nights that had become their days.

**

* * *

2:30 p.m.**

Emily was dressed in a satin and lace spaghetti strap top, tight black pants, and the heals she grown to loath after spending eight hours a night in them. She stood at her smallish table, five men in front of her, looking at each other slyly and occasionally glancing at the cards in front of them. Going around the table one last time, the sixty year-old judge with a cigar hanging out of his mouth swipe the pot toward his spot with one swift arm movement, grinning as he won. Emily leaned over, giving them a cleavage show as she gathered the cards, and shuffled before dealing for the umpteenth time that night.

Matt was busy setting up for the next match. They had three so far that night featuring less experience fighters in small bet boxing matches. The crowds were already getting anxious as the big fight got closer; he'd had at least four fights to break up, and had to disperse mosh pits twice in each fight. Matt was already a walking petrie dish, with his own sweat, and the sweat of all the guys he'd had to control, the spit that they just couldn't resist throwing at him, and of course, the drops of blood flying at him from the matches, and brawls. He couldn't recall hating a job more.

"Alright folks!" Billy, the announcer shouted walking onto the casino floor. "We're gathering now for the Lil' Ben and Tommy G match! You don't want to miss this! Only twenty more minutes to place your bets. Tommy G is the favorite at 2 to 1, and Lil' Ben is sitting now at 5 to 1, so bet now!"

"Alright, I'm done here, I've got $2000 on that match," A forty year-old lawyer sighed, tossing down his hand, and gathering his chips as he left Emily's table.

"Me too, I've been losing at this anyway," commented the judge with the cigar, as he also folded, and gathered his small handful of chips before leaving, two more guys leaving with him.

"Just you and me, Krista," a fifty something accountant smiled at Emily, using her name for the past two months.

"You want to play against the dealer, Charlie?"

"Why not? I'm not going in there. Hate watching those stupid fights; they're barbaric."

"Aww, they're not that bad. Besides, it's something different to bet on."

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Krista? I know you hate those things too."

"I don't hate the fights, I hate that they threw Dave into one," she told him, passing the cards between the two of them in a blinding flash.

"That's right, they borrowed that boyfriend of yours, poor bastard was a mess after that."

"You betting or staying?"

"I'll stay. Where are the two of you from anyway?"

"Uh, here and there…dealer has nineteen."

"Twenty, ha! I actually won, for once!"

"Congratulations Charlie, another hand?"

"Absolutely," He answered as they heard a bell ding, and shouts go up, signifying the start of the fight.

Back by the ring, Matt was standing two feet from the slightly elevated ring, his back to it, facing the crowd. Every so often, he'd have to push them back, as they surged forward. He could hear the squishy thuds of punches hitting muscle, and sporadic, chilling cracks as one hit bone, as Tommy G and Lil' Ben beat the shit out of each other. One well placed, heavy right hook, slamming against a jaw, and a juicy blood-spit mix landed in a shower against Matt's back and left arm.

This of course got crowd rowdier and pushed forward again, slamming into Matt and his fellow guards, as they pushed back, shouting for order, trying to be heard over the announcer, referee, and roaring crowd. Then the ref decided that Tommy G's last punch was illegal, and gave him a penalty, allowing Lil' Ben to collect himself. The crowd became very angry, and began pushing and shoving each other and the guards. Lil' Ben suddenly lurched from his hunched position and starting pounding Tommy G, over and over again. Every hit threw Tommy G's head either toward Matt's section or the one opposite him, and every time his profusely bleeding nose and dripping lips showered the crowd. Finally Tommy G. went crashing to the floor, undeniably defeated.

The entire room seemed to go silent at that moment, as the ref counted to three, as Tommy G. still remained motionless on the ground. Then he spun around, grabbing Lil' Ben's wrist and thrusting his arm in the air, declaring him the winner, and the his onslaught against Tommy G. was legal (as far as these games bothered with that). Half the crowd cheered, thrilled that their fighter had won, the other half starting screaming profanity, pushing forward and jumping up to be heard. Seeing the gathering riot, Matt and the rest of the guards braced themselves, just in time for the angry people to launch themselves at the stage.

The winning half of the crowd got excited and joined in, both sides hysterical from a testosterone rush. Pushing, shoving, yelling, it soon turned into a mosh pit, as the guards gave up and extricated themselves, jumping onto the stage. Desperately scrabbling, Matt went from trying to hold them off, to trying to protect his head, to just getting the hell away from the crowd. He was the third guard to get out of the pit, as they helped each other out, knowing that if anybody stayed down there, they'd be surely trampled. The announcer screamed for order, as the small group fought off the angry crowd trying to join them on the stage. The referee desperately dialed the phone to call for more guards and bouncers to control the group. Matt stared in shock at the insanity of the crowd, his chest heaving.

At the tables, the dealers stared toward the door nervously, listening to the roar on the other side. Emily felt sick to her stomach as she continued to deal to Charlie, her hands shaking slightly. That wasn't the normal roar of an excited crowd, something was seriously wrong. Images of Matt after he'd been in that fight flashed rapidly through her mind, taunting her with possibilities she was too afraid to admit.

"You alright Krista, you're looking a little green?" Charlie asked her, throwing some chips on the table.

"Can't you hear that Charlie? That isn't normal, something's wrong."

"I'm sure the crowd just got a little rowdy. Don't worry, Dave has handled some pretty bad ones."

"I've heard the crowds on the worst nights, and they're nothing compared to this."

"Eh, hit me. They all sound worse than they are, I wouldn't worry," Charlie commented, even as a barrage of guards ran through the casino floor and burst into the fight room.

"Oh no, I told you it was bad Charlie," Emily said quietly, biting her lip as she stared off toward the door.

"You need to take a break?" He eyed her with concern.

"No, no, I'm fine." Emily flipped her card, calculated 23, pushed the pot toward Charlie, and gathered the cards to deal again.

"You sure? I don't mind Krista, you're obviously a little distracted."

"It's fine, if I take a break, I'll just end up pacing or still standing here staring at that door."

He shrugged, giving in and flipping his cards over, "So how long have you and Dave been together?"

"Um, I guess…about two and a half years."

"That's it? You two seem like you've been together longer."

"Oh yeah?" She asked.

"I don't, you just seem really close, like you've known each other half your lives," he shrugged and studied his new hand.

"Oh, we've just been through a lot together."

"I've never asked before, because I got the feeling you didn't want to share, but what did you two get yourselves into?" He asked, stilling her hand, so that he could make eye contact.

"Your feeling was right Charlie, I'm not sharing," she simply told him, freeing her hand and dealing him another card.

"Fine then, but it's pretty obvious you and Dave are hiding from someone."

"Do you want another hit or stay?"

He studied his hand again, "I'll stay."

"Okay, dealer has 21," she said flipping over her second card to reveal a queen to accompany the already overturned Ace.

"You win, I've got 19.' He flipped over his own cards to reveal a six, eight, and five.

"But you were pretty close to a straight flush there," she smiled at him, gesturing to his line of clubs.

"Course, I'd never get that at a poker table." Both people were startled when the game room doors flew open, and three guards led out the rowdy speculators, bringing them up the stairs to the bar that served as a front for the casino.

Several more guards followed, heading back to the posts they'd been called away from, and behind them were the two exhausted fighters, referee and announcer. Matt and the other three fight guards were evidently not coming out yet. Emily bit her lip nervously, silently praying that he was in one piece. After a few moments the four guards began to emerge, all bruised and covered the tiny speckles of blood showers.

"I think I'll take that break now, Charlie. I won't be long." Emily told him, before closing up her table, and making a beeline for Matt.

"Hey," he greeted with a weary smile upon seeing her.

"Hey, what happened in there?" She asked, her hand instinctively going to a bleeding cut on his head.

"Ouch, yeah, the crowd got a little rough. They didn't like the refs call, and just lost it. We had to jump up into the ring with the fighters to get away from them," he shook his head at the insanity.

"I heard their yelling out here. It scared the hell out of me," she told him, worrying evident in her blue eyes.

"Hey, at least I didn't get thrown into this one," he tried to joke, and ease her obvious fear. She didn't seem to be too amused though.

"I can't lose you, Matt," she whispered, her eyes burning into his, "you're all I have." Clearly shaken, she wrapped her arms around him, sighing in relief as he reciprocated.

"The feelings mutual, Em. You won't lose me," he soothed, "I love you." He leaned down and gave her a quick, but passionate kiss, before releasing her so they could both get back to work, or rather for Matt, first aid then work.

Emily grudgingly went back and opened her table, patiently waiting for new customers, eased a bit after seeing Matt. She hated the life they were forced to live now, but with Matt it was bearable. She didn't know what she would have done if something had happened to him, she didn't know if she could have handled that under the circumstances. He'd been the only person she could talk to, and depend on for almost two years; what do you do if that person is suddenly taken away?

Matt headed to the locker room, where the rest of the guards would be giving each other first aid, as was customary after violent crowds. When somebody got a hit in the head, or just a spot they couldn't reach, someone else helped; it was the only way they got home in one piece. What Emily said stayed with him, at this moment, in this place, they were the only thing the other had. He knew if something ever happened to her, he wouldn't hesitate to go back to L.A. and turn himself in, because there was no point anymore without her.

* * *

_Time is going to be moving pretty fast in this one, as you can probably tell by now; it might be a tad jolting, but it's the only way to keep things moving. Basically, I'm just skipping the mundane periods in between chapters. As another note, though my descriptions of Philly may be less than flattering, it's pretty accurate for what I see everyday, being that I live, work, and go to school in the ghetto. Broken down neighborhoods and shitty apartments are all based on personal experience, but that being said, there are beautiful parts of the city. Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Three weeks later**

The weeks following the match had been uneventful, something both Matt and Emily were thankful for. They didn't want excitement right now, they just wanted to work at their shady job, and make enough money to get a boat out of America. They had every intention of doing both, but Emily just wasn't feeling well today, not at all. Hand holding her nauseated stomach, she went to find Matt to tell him she was leaving early. She tried to work, but she came way too close to vomiting on the pot of chip at her table.

"Hey Dave," she greeted him, as he was standing with another guard at the door, playing bouncer tonight.

"Hey, you feeling any better?" He didn't even flinch at the name, something they'd both perfected after about a year of running.

"No, that's why I'm here, I'm going to go home before I throw up on somebody."

He nodded and checked his watch, "Okay, but it's already two-thirty, do me a favor and take a cab home, the city isn't safe this late."

"Sure, I'll see you later." She gave him a kiss and hurried out.

Outside, Emily looked around a minute, the casino was in the heart of Old City, which was the most beautiful part of the city in the daylight, but also know for it's vibrant night life. Matt was right, no part of the city was safe this late, in fact most of the city wasn't safe most of the time. The cities main newspaper had taken to morbidly printing the running toll of homicides, generally right next to an abbreviated weather report. It was up way passed a hundred since January first.

Looking down the one-way street before crossing, Emily walked over the cobblestone to the next segment of sidewalk, hurrying down it before ducking into a twenty-four Riteaid. Philadelphia was literally over run with them, even more so than Starbucks. The over-priced little convenience stores had most of what you could need in a jam, and one could be found every few blocks.

She grabbed a basket, and through in a few things they needed; coffee, toilet paper, sponges, soap, and finally ended up at an aisle nearby the pharmacy, her real reason for coming in. She bit her lip, studying the small, rectangular boxes in front of her, which one should she get? They were very expensive, but this was nothing something you pinch pennies for, and this was surely not the time to buy generic. This one, it seemed so simple it had to be idiot proof, exactly what she needed.

Tossing the box in the basket, she headed for the check-out counter, and stared at tabloids while the teenage cashier took her sweet time getting off her cell phone. The young woman was clearly less than pleased to see Emily, and decided she would start scanning while she continued her phone call. Items in the bag, the girl stood there waiting for Emily to pay without even telling her how much she owed. Annoyed and eager to get out, Emily just handed the girl her best guess, and grabbed the bag, palming the change, and taking off.

Even more ready to vomit now than she was before, Emily stood by the street and waived down the first taxi that approached. The black Old City Cab slowed down, and let her in, the driver nodding at her directions before taking off. In L.A. Emily rode in cabs occasionally, she had a car so she didn't really need to, but she had never ridden a Philadelphia cab. They were too expensive for a couple desperate for every dime, and Matt had always been with her when they traveled.

Now she relaxed into the seat, watching the scenery go by, unimpressive as it was once they were out of Center City. Philadelphia was always a bizarre city, one block would be clean and well maintained, while the next was a garbage strewn shithole doted in broken down buildings. And in some parts of North Philly, an area struggling to bring itself up from the urban blight it had become, one of a pair of joined row homes would look well taken care of, while the other had no windows and graffiti all over. Their neighborhood was just a blight in its entirety, but you would be hard pressed to find better rent.

She paid the cabbie after he pulled up to their building, and hurried out of the car, jamming her key in the lock and hurrying inside before anybody could approach her. A woman alone in the ghetto at two thirty in the morning could never really be too careful. She trudged up the stairs, bag in one hand, and keys in the other, covering her stomach. She unlocked the lock in the knob, then the deadbolt, and not even dropping her, relocked both after entering.

Finally she dumped the bag in their tiny kitchen, before heading back to the bathroom, yanking her hair back as she heaved into the toilet. Her stomach, at last, made good on it's threat and pushed it's acid laced contents up her now burning throat, and into the awaiting bowl. After several more heaves that she felt must have relieved her of everything she'd eaten the last two days, she flushed the toilet and washed her mouth out.

Back in the kitchen she put her few purchases away, before finally being forced to face the reality of that small rectangular box. She parked herself on their bed, hands playing with the box, as she avoided looking at it. Sighing she turned it over and began studying the directions, more intensely than she was necessary. Resigned she headed back to the bathroom, opening the small box and mentally preparing herself as she went.

* * *

Meanwhile, the casino had been bustling and Matt had been kept very busy. Mostly, he was politely encouraging sore losers to take their wounded pride out the door, and not come back until they could handle themselves. Then their were the guys that drank too much and stumbled and fumbled everything, launched threats at the tellers, and sang or something equally bizarre. When it came to these few, he dropped being polite and simply tossed them out the door, with a stern promise if they ever came back they would be leaving, either missing an important organ or in a bag.

Tonight he'd had two sore losers, one drunk, and to shake it up a little, a junkie that stumbled in, badly in need of a fix. His eyes were encircled with dark smudges, his face drawn and pale, body thin, appearing almost frail, and he smelled as if he hadn't seen a shower in a few days. The track marks that became visible when his shirt inched up as he raised his arms betrayed his drug of choice as heroin, even his pleas for a needle wouldn't have. Matt had been instructed to lead him to the back an watch him, until Georgie showed up.

That wasn't normally the way they did things, Georgie never bothered with the junkies that occasionally stumbled in, figuring illegal drugs followed any other illegal activities. Matt later found out that Jimmy, the junkie, was Georgie's screw-up nephew that the term 'black sheep' didn't even come close to describing. Georgie had come in, yelled at the man for coming into his casino, thrown a plastic bag at him, and told him not to come back again, or he wouldn't walk back out. Jimmy had nodded, and Matt was left to watch him while he melted the small chunk of white powder in the bag, and injected it into his abused veins.

Fortunately, that whole thing hadn't taken too much time, but it was still too long for Matt. He didn't like these people, didn't like this world; it made his stomach turn itself in knots. Violence and death meant nothing to these people, life was a commodity that people could lose as easy as a round of Texas Hold'em. People blew their paychecks at the tables, or at the fights, and then crawled out, cursing the casino, only to return the next Friday. In either of the small private rooms in the back, the exclusive games were complimented with cocaine, on the house of course. These people were drowning themselves in money, drugs, and death, and didn't even know enough to start kicking like hell to the surface.

But he wasn't in prison, and neither was Emily, though he sometimes wondered if prison would actually be worse. But, of course, in prison they wouldn't be together. This what he thought about as he grabbed his jacket and trudged out of the seedy casino, and walked out of the bar. It was still very early, the sun was just beginning to rise as he walked up the block to the first subway he would take to get home. In Old City, the stations were actually nice looking, and didn't tend to smell like urine. They were clean, and kept painted, because this is the area all the tourists came to, so the city had to care about it. The seats on the trains even had padding, it was cracker this, but they still had it.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, and another fifteen to ride it to City Hall, he jogged to catch Philly's other subway. This one was older; there was no padding on the seats, most of the stops leaked when it rained, were filthy to begin with, and randomly painted, like a job somebody didn't have the time or money to finish. It was also used as a toilet by the homeless, at least for urination, but so were many subways throughout the country. Before they took off, Matt and Emily hadn't ridden on any subway systems since college, but now they'd rode on them everyday.

As he waited for the train, as he had so many times before, he caught sight of something moving through the tracks. It was a big, black rat, sniffing, and scampering about, looking for his next meal. Shaking his head in resigned disgust, Matt let his head drift up to the advertisements plastered up and down the subway, staring for the umpteenth time at Anthony Hopkins and Ryan Gosling in the ad for _Fracture_. Fortunately, the train arrived only moments later, blocking his view of the actors, and opening it's doors to admit new passengers. Tonight it felt blessedly short, maybe because he dosed off for a minute, but somehow before he knew it, he was walking the familiar streets home.

He passed to men as he crossed the street, both had their hoods pulled up, and one held a paper bag. He casually slipped it to his companion, as his companion slipped him a small wad of cash. It could have been anything from meth, to pot, to some prescription pill, one never knew around here. Ignoring it as he did every night, Matt trudged the next two blocks to his apartment, too tired to care about the decay around him. Yawning, he stepped into the apartment, shocked at what greeted him.

Emily sat on the couch, staring off into space, a thermometer-looking device in her hand. Her eyes were cherry red and puffy, she'd obviously been crying, and for a while. Matt walked over to her, alarmed and concerned at what could have her so upset, discounting the obvious. They'd both already mourned they present circumstances.

Matt had opened his mouth to speak when he saw what was in her hand, then he just spit out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Oh, shit."

Emily's head whirled to face him, as if realizing he was there for the first time. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound escaped, only a few more tears from her sore eyes.

The little device in her hand was not a thermometer, not even close. The blatant declaration of "pregnant" written in a small bubble on its white surface, made that fact undeniably clear. His mind still in shock, all Matt could manage was wonder, they made tests that just said it like that?

"How accurate is that thing?" He asked quietly.

Emily still didn't speak, she just tossed the cardboard box at him. The box proclaimed the test as EPT Certainty, 99 percent accurate. The Error Proof Test. Matt just barely managed to clamp his mouth shut before he repeated his earlier phrase.

"How long have you suspected?" He wasn't angry, really, more hurt and disappointed. After everything they'd been through, she didn't trust him enough to tell him?

Still staring off into space, Emily just shrugged. At the moment she was having difficulty forming a coherent thought, though there was a barrage of incoherent ones swarming her brain. After spending three hours going in and out of the bathroom, trying to find the courage to take the test, she still hadn't been ready for the results, not even close.

"Em, you have to talk to me now," he told her gently, turning her to face him.

"Only a few days," she finally told him, after a long silence.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was in denial, I think I might still be. This can't be happening," she spoke quickly.

Matt nodded, absently, "this isn't good."

"I was thinking, we have a few options," she seemed to have snapped out of her shock for the moment.

"Oh yeah? Care to share them?" Matt's head fell into his hands; this was so bad.

"Well, the most responsible thing to do, under the circumstances, would be to, uh, get an abortion," she stuttered.

His head shot up to look at her. Had she really just suggested that?

"I don't really want to Matt, but, but we obviously can't have a kid where we are now. We can't have a kid on the run."

"Yeah, I get that, but jesus, Em, we can't do that."

"What else can we do? You know we can't have a kid now."

"Maybe, but adoption, we could do that, I might, I could, I think I could live with that." He struggled to get the words out, preferring anything to abortion. Matt may be pro-choice, but not with his own baby.

"You could really live with knowing we had a child out there, and never seeing it?"

Matt was silent for a minute, contemplating that, "yeah, yeah I can, more than I can if we got rid of it. Can't you?"

Now it was Emily's turn to become silent. "I just don't know if…Matt, if I carried the baby to term, I don't know if I'd be able to give it up. I don't think I'd be able to just let it go."

Matt took her hand, and thought for a minute, "what if we went back to L.A. after the baby was born?"

Emily looked at him as if he was crazy; what was he talking about?

"No, not to stay," he said quickly, reading her expression, "we could give the baby to your parents, or Cheryl, somebody we know, somebody who can keep us connected."

Emily looked at him, her eyes betraying the uncertainty, fear, and general mayhem in her head at the moment. She had no idea what she wanted to do, or what they should do. She just continued staring blankly at him, too emotionally drained to make a decision right then.

* * *

_Where to begin? First, sorry the update took so long, I'm losing my mind with this many active stories. Second, sorry if the begining dragged a bit with the description, I'm getting very tired of living/working/going to school in the ghetto, and this is my hostility trying to work itself off. (I can now proudly say I live less than 3 blocks away from of number 4 on the list of Philly's top ten drug corners). Third, I know I already did one where Em's pregnant, but I promise this one is going to be very different. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	5. Chapter 5

Three days later Emily and Matt had both finally gotten the courage to venture into a free clinic. The doctor had done a vaginal exam, an ultrasound, and taken blood, which they were still waiting on. The couple really couldn't have appeared more uncomfortable, and the unsurprisingly the doctor noticed, and gave them several concerned looks. Now Emily was changing back into her clothing, as Matt waited awkwardly nearby. She came out after only a few minutes, and resumed her spot by the exam table, leaning against the side to avoid the godforsaken stirrups. Matt slipped his hand in hers, and gave a little squeeze; they'd figure this out, somehow.

"Alright Emily, your blood looks pretty good, you're a little low on some of the important vitamins though," She paused to look up from the chart and at the couple.

Emily nodded at her absently, clearly exhausted and stressed, while Matt looked a bit more alarmed at the news.

"Before I go any further, I need to ask you two…do you plan on keeping the baby?" Dr. Kiesha Clark saw many women in her office, few couples, and even fewer women that were older than 25 or not addicted to one of a multitude of drugs. The couple in front of her was old enough to raise a child, and obviously not on drugs, but carried the same tired, frightened look of her usual patients; that concerned her.

Emily bit her lip, but didn't answer, while Matt simply looked at the floor; they hadn't made that decision yet.

Keisha watched them curiously, "Can I offer you two some advice?"

Matt looked up at her from the floor, and Emily gave a barely noticeable nod.

"Obviously you both have some reservations about having a child, but not having it as well. Honestly, I see a lot of people come through here who shouldn't be parents for various reasons, and you two aren't included in them. If it's money you're worried about, there's government programs that can help you. If it's something else…well, all I'll say if a 17 year-old addicted to meth can clean herself up and do it, then I'm sure you can too."

Her patients didn't respond, though they did appear slightly less frightened.

"You don't need to decide now. I'm going to write you a script for prenatal vitamins, if you decide to have the baby start taking them and make another appointment. If don't want to keep it, there's a Planned Parenthood right down the street. Good luck to you both." Keisha handed off the forms and nodded at the couple before leaving for her next patient.

Matt and Emily said very little to each other as they left, and didn't talk about the baby for the several days. Matt knew what he wanted, but that it ultimately came down to Emily's decision. He couldn't say he liked it, but he understood it, as he understood her hesitancy to keep the baby. Could he even look into his child's eye one moment, and say goodbye the next? It was because of this that he didn't press her, didn't even ask her about it. Emily would eventually figure out what she wanted to do, and whatever it was he'd be there.

* * *

After not addressing the issue for several days Emily asked to stop at a drug store after their shift at the casino. They came out with a bottle of vitamins, and a large box of saltines; Emily had nearly gone through the one they had. She'd spent much of the last week in the bathroom, her head held firmly over the toilet, getting another look at all those saltines.

After they retuned from their shopping trip she'd popped a vitamin in her mouth, washed it down with a few sips of water, and went right to the box of saltines, full well knowing she'd see them again very soon. After nibbling slowly on a handful, she'd finally spoken, explaining that she still wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but just in case, she thought she should take the vitamins. Matt had simply nodded, to him it was a pretty good sign they were keeping the baby.

It was only a few nights later that he actually got his answer, as they lay in bed. They were both on their sides, facing away from each other, and Matt was well on his way to drifting off. Emily on the other hand was staring into the darkness as she had for the last two weeks, a thousands thoughts, fears, and hopes running manically through her head all at once. She suddenly turned her head to look behind her, or rather more at the ceiling since heads don't turn that far.

"Matt?" Her voice came out somewhere between a whisper and a normal level.

"Huh?" He grunted back, his eyes had been seconds away from drifting closed.

"Are we still trying to get a boat to take us out of the U.S.?"

"I'm hoping to, we still need money though. Why?" Matt's head was now turned the same was as Emily's, so that they two were talking to the ceiling.

"When do you think we can get it?"

"I don't know, another six months maybe?" Matt was wide-awake now, wondering where she was going with this conversation.

"So probably by the time I have the baby?" Emily rolled over to look at him as she asked this.

"Depends on how much we save, and the boat we get, but yeah, I'm hoping by then we'll have enough." He turned to meet her.

"Would it be selfish of us to take it with us?" Her voice was very quiet, and the vulnerability in her eyes suggested that only one answer would keep her heart from breaking.

"Selfish? Why would it be selfish?" Matt wanted to smack himself for not thinking of that immensely simple answer that would keep them from giving up their child.

"We don't know where exactly we'll be, what we'll be doing, or how we'll be living. There's hundreds of couples that want babies, that could give ours so much more than we can right now. Wouldn't it be selfish for us to choose what we want over what's best for our baby?"

"Maybe we can't promise this child immediate stability, but we're going to go somewhere that we don't have to hide anymore. We can get real jobs, a home…no more of these shitty apartments in these forgotten, decrepit ghettos. We can give it what it deserves. And you know what?"

"What?" Emily asked quietly, she was glad one of them had the confidence for this.

He picked up her hands in his and brought them to his mouth, pressing a kiss to them and letting his lips rest there a moment. "What's best for our baby is to be we us. No two people in this world could ever love it more."

"Yeah…thank you."

"For what?"

"Giving me time, I know it wasn't easy for you to think I might get rid of the baby." She scootched close, resting her head against his chest, and wrapping an arm around his waist.

* * *

Now all that was left was to tell their employer that they were having a baby. They had no idea how this was going to go, but Emily needed to keep her job as long as possible if they were ever going to leave the states. They chose to do this the next day, not wanting to lose anytime in case Emily needed to find a new job. They waited now in Georgie's office, a very expensive office.

It was fairly large and looked like it should have belonged to a private lawyer or politician. It was on the floor above the bar, so it had a large window and pretty decent view of Old City. There was a large, expensive wooden desk in the middle, with a leather chair behind it, and two other chairs in front. Original artwork from unknown (and therefore cheap) artists adorned two of the walls in frames more expensive than the pieces. To the side were wooden draws for filing, and a cupboard with a small bar.

"So, Krista, Dave, what can I do for you two?" Georgie came in like a whorlwind, holding the jacket of his expensive suit in one hand, and a ledger in the other, obviously quite busy.

"Uh, well we just wanted to let you know that Krista is pregnant," Matt told him, after waiting a minute for Emily to speak.

"Really? That's great!" He said jovially, turning to Emily, who at the moment looked like she needed to get to a bathroom.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked her.

"Uh, no, I'll be right back, bathroom," she stuttered, choking back the bile long enough to bolt from the room.

"Poor thing. Her morning sickness bad?"

"It's actually been more evening sickness, but yeah, it can be pretty bad some days."

"Margaret had it something awful with our first one, Sammy. The second two weren't so bad though. She eating saltines?"

"Like their going off the market."

Georgie laughed heartily, "That's how it works, Dave. Tell me, you excited to be a dad?"

"Uh, excited, happy, scared shitless all at once."

"I remember that. Don't worry, it's not as hard as it looks."

"That's good to hear."

At that moment Emily came back in, looking much better than she had.

"How have you been feeling, Krista?" Georgie looked at her with concern.

"I've been okay, this is just around the time my morning sickness peaks."

"When are you due?"

"In mid December."

Georgie did some mental math before asking, "Then you're about eight weeks now?"

"Yeah, that's what the doctor said."

"Well, I'm going to have to keep you on the tables a while longer, but I'll see what I can do about getting you off your feet when you start getting farther along."

Matt and Emily looked at their boss in surprise; they hadn't expected him to be so accommodating.

"What? You two looked shocked?"

"Uh, I guess we just didn't expect you to be so understanding," Emily offered.

"I take care of my own, and you two have done well here. Honestly, I figured after we had to through Dave into that fight that would be your last night here. But, you both came back, that shows loyalty, and I respect that. Besides, it's not like I offer medical benefits, it's the least I could do."

"Well, thank you." Matt told him honestly.

"Of course. Now, off to work," he waved them out of his office, burying his head in his books.

Matt and Emily walked out, still surprised at how well things had gone. They were momentarily amused thinking how, had they still been with the Bureau, it would have gone, well, horribly. Still, they would have preferred to be telling Cheryl, hearing Lia squeal, and getting teased mercilessly by Frank and Duff. They would have to settle for this though, and now, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

_Thank you to all my reviewers and readers! And, I know this is probably moving a little slowly, but it will pick up soon, promise!_


	6. Chapter 6

**11 Weeks Later**

Matt and Emily walked out of yet another clinic, in yet another part of the city. These clinics didn't handle regular care, they were for emergencies, or one time illness for those without insurance. So, like many people without health coverage and too poor to pay, they just randomly showed up at different clinics to get Emily checked out regularly. They always took a copy of everything the doctor did, because, well somebody had to keep track.

Emily meanwhile, was obviously pregnant now at nineteen weeks, and they'd received happy congratulations from everybody at the casino as they began to realize. Georgie had kept his promise and pulled Emily off the floor, placing her instead in his office to keep the casino's books. As it turned out they had pretty good timing. Georgie's regular book keeper had been cheating him, stealing money steadily for several months. He'd been quietly investigating the issue himself for a while, and two months ago the bookie seemingly disappeared, and Emily was taken off the tables.

This also meant that her hours were a little different, she came in two hours later now, and left two hours later. They didn't need her during opening, but they did need her at closing to keep track of the money they made each night. This was better though, she got to see the sun coming up as she went home. She was very tired though, the pregnancy was really taking a toll on her being that she worked so much, but she couldn't stop. They had to have enough money to leave the states when the baby was born.

Now they waited twenty minutes in the blazing July heat until the 32 bus came to take them home. Emily had taken to wearing light-weight, cotton sun dresses, because it was just unbearable in anything else. Their little shoebox of an apartment was ten degrees hotter than the actual temperature on any given day. Ironic considering it was about ten degrees colder than the outdoors in the winter. They almost preferred going to work at this point, just to sit in the air conditioning.

It was only a little after one o'clock now, by the time they got home it would be closer to two, but that would still leave them time to sleep before work. They didn't go in together anymore and didn't come home together, but Emily left the casino late enough into the morning that it would be reasonably safe. Though he usually met her at the train stop by their apartment anyway.

The bus dropped them off at the train, and they once again navigated their way down the steps, around the questionable puddles, and through the urine smell. Down on the train platform, two express trains whizzed passed each other, creating what had to had been the loudest noise imaginable. They both cringed hearing it; when one express train sped through it was bad enough, but when two came through simultaneously it made you want to jump out of your skin.

They were soon collapsed on their bed, after cranking on the fan they had caved in and bought. The device was pretty cheap at the Rite Aid they found it at, and it was just too unbearably hot not to have one.

"Did you get any ideas for names?" Emily suddenly asked.

"I'm not sure, I can think of plenty of names, I just don't know if I like them or not," Matt admitted, placing a hand on her belly, and gently caressing it with his thumb.

"Well, what have you thought of?"

"Uh, I keep thinking Michael, but then that makes me think of 'hey, Mikey, I think he likes it', and I don't want to be thinking of that every time I say my son's name."

Emily laughed at him, "I'm sure if we have a boy, he'll be grateful for that."

"You have any ideas?"

"I had one. If it's a girl, how about Catherine, after your mother?"

He looked at her curiously a moment, before nodding his head and kissing her temple, "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Now we just have to figure out a boy's name."

"So long as it isn't Michael, or Charlie," he added as an after thought.

"Why not Charlie?"

"Chocolate Factory."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, do you want our son to be associated with chocolate, and a weird guy that invites a bunch of kids to come and play in his magic chocolate kingdom?"

"That sounds so wrong." She told him trying not to laugh.

"Exactly, I have my concerns as far as Willy Wonka goes." As Matt said this, his face was completely serious, causing Emily to burst out laughing. He joined her soon after.

"That felt good," she said when she finally stopped, "we haven't laughed in a long time."

"No we haven't, we have to do it more." He answered kissing her, as they finally relaxed and settled to sleep the few hours before work.

* * *

When Emily got into work later that day, she made her way down to the casino to meet Matt. This had become their custom over the last two months. Emily would stop in to let him know she'd gotten there, and then go back into the bar and up to the second floor to where the books were kept. Today, Matt wasn't on the floor as she expected, but instead she was pointed toward the basement exit.

Matt tossed the frightened man out the door, with an assurance that he wouldn't be coming back. It never failed to amaze him how many people tried to cheat, or got handsy with one of the women working there, even with the security guards standing nearby. This man had done both, counting cards at the Texas Hold-em table, and grabbing excessively at the waitress bringing him drinks.

"Hey." He turned to see Emily watching him.

"Hey, busy night already," he answered shutting the door, and retreating over to her.

"I can see that, how many times have you done that tonight?"

"Four, which I think has to be a record for only having been open for an hour." Matt looked exasperated, and tired after having been there only two hours.

"Sorry. Be careful tonight, if this opening is any indication, it's going to be rough."

"I'll be fine, don't worry." He kissed her, before sending her off to go back up stairs.

Emily went to the little office she worked out of, and pulled out the last six months worth of books. They were a disaster as far as she could be able to tell, and spent every night trying to decipher them, so she could finally tell Georgie how much his previous bookie had skimmed. After two months she knew his system, and had had figured out that he'd been skimming for longer than Georgie thought. Now she was working on finishing up the last six months, which was taking much longer than she intended because she had to keep looking up figures from previous months.

Emily sat for hours working on the books, and was so engrossed she jumped when Matt spoke from the doorway.

"How is coming?" He looked like hell. He was still dabbing at his bleeding nose with a tissue, had a large cut on his bottom lip, and bloody knuckles.

"What happened?" Emily demanded in alarm, rising from the chair and hurrying over to him.

"I'm fine, just had to physically persuade a guy to leave. He looks worse, believe me," He tried to reassure her.

"I don't care, I get tired of seeing you bloody."

"Don't worry about it. I've had worse, and anyway, Georgie is sending me home early so I can get cleaned up, and ice my knuckles. Damn, they hurt already."

She gave him a sympathetic look, "Okay, I'll see you later then?"

"Yep, I'll meet you at the train when you get off." He gave her a quick kiss, and headed out, leaving her to her work.

* * *

It was while Matt was riding the train home that he began to think how things might actually be going well for them for once. It was nice to see each other smile after a year and a half of trying to hide the exhaustion, fear and pain of their new existence. It was wonderful to hear Emily laugh again, and made much better because he was the one doing it. He was smiling to himself, watching the darkened subway tunnel shoot by as they traveled under Market street.

Then the reflection in the car window caught his eye, there was a man watching him. Maybe not watching him so much as studying him, as if trying to figure out if Matt was someone he knew. Matt kept his face firmly turned toward the window, trying to prevent the man from actually getting the answer he wanted. The train screamed into the next stop, and Matt wasted no time diving out the open doors, and hauling ass up the stairs.

Once out on the street, Matt looked to either side of himself for the entrance to the trolleys, which ran much of the way the train did. Spotting one not far from the corner, he ran over, marched down the stairs, and landed on the platform. He began tapping his foot nervously waiting for the next trolley, something wasn't right with that man. He didn't really recognize him, but he could be any FBI or CIA agent that was aware of what happened in L.A., and saw Matt's picture.

Matt caught sight of the man following him, just before he jumped on the trolley, his heart beating hundred times a second. Riding one of Philadelphia's underground trolleys is akin to riding a roller coaster, both in that it speeds around curves forcing you to hold on to something, and also that you are never quite sure that it will stay on the tracks or not hit one of the walls it comes so close to. Matt hung on to the bar attached to the chair in front of him, as the car went around a particularly difficult curve, and again caught a sight that made him stop.

It couldn't be? There was another man, a different one who was watching him out of the corner of his eye. Matt was being paranoid, right? He saw one guy watching, so it felt like everyone was now, that's what it had to be. Shaking his head as if to clear it of it's paranoid thoughts, turned to watch the stops go by. When the trolley pulled up under City Hall, he jumped out, and ran off to meet the C bus, and he would have sworn that the man jumped out with him.

Matt was right, he caught the quickest flash of the man jumping on the C Bus, as he did so himself. This wasn't good. Somebody was following him, somebody knew who he was, and where he came from. They would have to leave and start over again, but they couldn't leave the states yet, they didn't have enough money. Matt knew it couldn't be good to uproot Emily right now, when they had a system to take care of her during her pregnancy. What choice did they really have though?

He got off the bus two spots early, and checking carefully behind him, began diving through an alleyway. Once on the other side, he went up two blocks, dived into another alleyway, and continued this weaving process all the way back to the apartment. His heart pounding, and mind racing, Matt packed both their bags with the most important things they'd need: clothes, money, Emily's medical records, prenatal vitamins, and the few mementos that they'd been dragging with them since they left L.A.

* * *

Emily was nearly falling asleep as she sat hunched over scribbling in a fresh ledger, turning her predecessor's labyrinthine system into something manageable. The number seven button on her calculator kept getting stuck, and cursing at the device was the only thing keeping her head off the book. Damning the calculator and it's creator to hell for the thirtieth time, Emily tossed her pencil down for the moment, and stretched. Suddenly her door flew open, causing her to jump five feet before she saw who it was, then she was just confused.

"M-Dave, what are you doing back?" Whatever it was, the look on his face said it couldn't be good.

"We've got to go, Em." He called her by her name in; he was definitely serious.

"What happened?"

"Guy on the train watching me, guy on the trolley followed me on to the C Bus. We have to go, now." Matt came around the desk to meet her, as she got up, grabbing the few things she had with her.

"Where are we going now?"

"Shipyard, come on." He grabbed her hand and dragged her out to the hallway, and down the bar, where she saw their suitcases in the corner. Emily grabbed the handle to hers, and with her other hand in Matt's left the casino for the last time.

Matt held his hand up for a cab, and was rewarded when a black taxi with 'Crescent Cabs' painted on the side in white pulled up to them. Matt threw their bags in the trunk, and joined Emily in the back seat; he was moving very fast. He had a feeling those men had been watching them before tonight, and that they were still watching them now.

"The docks, down past the Walt Whitman bridge," Matt instructed.

"Matt, I though we didn't have enough money to do that yet?" Emily asked slightly panicked now.

"It's okay, I figured it out," he promised her, rubbing her shoulder gently to try and keep her calm. Not that he was very calm at that moment. She was right they didn't have the money they needed yet, but he wasn't lying when he told her he'd figured it out.

They pulled up to the docks in just over twenty minutes, and Matt frantically handed the cabbie money, before jumping out of the car, and pulling their luggage out of the back. Once again grabbing his girlfriend's hand, Matt took off toward the boat he'd been on a little over a month ago. He'd spoken to the man who owned and operated the fishing boat to get a price range for their fare then, and promised to return, though he hadn't expected to this soon.

Matt released Emily's hand and left his suitcase by her, while he went to talk to Jake Mendelson, owner of the tuna fishing boat, Emerald Genie. Emily watched him talk animatedly with the man, gesture over to her, and hand him some money. Her eyes drifted to the boat; it was very large, made of wood and metal, and painted white and green with it's name written in black script. Men were dragging crates and boxes on it, and appeared to be almost done, as a tall, blond-haired man grabbed the last crate from what used to be a pile, and walked up the ramp.

"You ready to go?" Matt asked, suddenly appearing beside her again.

"Yeah, yeah, lets go." She still wasn't sure how he'd negotiated down, but followed him on to the boat.

Once they'd gotten on, Matt stopped, releasing her suitcase, and placing his hands on her arms, turning her toward him. Emily had been looking at the ship, and it's crew, who were still organizing things on the boat.

"Em, I need you to listen to me for a minute," he told her staring into her eyes.

"Matt, what's going on?" Something didn't feel right, and Emily was beginning to get nervous.

"You need to take this, and hide it somewhere," He handed her what was left of their money, confusing and frightening her further.

"What?"

"He's going to take you to the Marshall Islands, near Australia; they speak English and have no extradition policy. You and the baby will be safe there."

"What do you mean? You're not coming?" Emily could feel her pulse begin to race, and her voice begin to waiver. This couldn't be happening.

"I can't, we only had enough money to send one of us. There's a little money left over, that should help you get settled." Matt could see tears beginning to form in her eyes, and felt some burning the back of his.

"You can't leave me, Matt. I can't do this alone," she began to plead, as panic started to build inside her.

"You can, you'll be fine."

"I can't, I can't. You said the best thing for the baby was to have us. Us, Matt, not me, not you, but us," she told him, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks.

"I know, but that can't be helped now."

"Damn it, don't tell me that. I need you!" She cried angrily.

"I know. I know and I'm sorry, but you have to take care of our baby now, okay? You are all it has. Promise me that?"

"Yes, I will. Our baby," she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Matt turned his head at the sound of sirens. They found him; he figured they would.

"What's that what's going on?"

"I told you they were following, I have to go now Em. You need to get out of here before they arrest us both."

"No, no, no, no, no. You can't go, I need you. I need you," she begged, holding on to him, as tears streamed furiously from her eyes, blurring her vision.

"I have to. I have to, Em. I promise when I get out, I will come and find you."

"Please, please-" Emily's words were cut off by her hysterical sobs.

"I love you." Matt kissed her hard, one last time, and tried to pull out of her grip. But, she wouldn't let him go.

"I love you too," she whispered crying into his shoulder. Matt gently, but firmly removed her arms from around him, and wiping his own tears away, walked off the boat.

He didn't look back at her, he couldn't look back. If he had he would have seen the pain in her face, and wouldn't have been able to walk away. He brought his head up from the ground he'd been staring at as he walked off the boat, and saw the police cruisers and unmarked sedans with flashing lights getting closer.

Emily stood near the railing on the side of the boat, sobs still shaking her body. She watched him start to slowly walk away, as the boat pulled out of the dock, and began its trip down the Delaware River that led to the ocean. She also saw the cars getting closer, only a few minutes and they'd be there. She ran to the far end of the deck, determined to watch Matt as long it was possible.

Matt had decided on his trip back to the casino that he would send Emily on the boat without him. He couldn't move them again, not while she was pregnant. She and the baby needed stability if they were going to survive. So, like fathers and lovers had been doing for centuries, Matt made the decision to protect Emily, and their child. He had no problem going to jail, if it meant she'd be free to have their child.

Emily wrapped her arms around herself, not caring enough to wipe at the tears still streaming down her face. She watched the radio cars pull up by the docks, and a dozen cops jump up with their guns drawn. Matt held his hands in surrender, but they still descended on him like vultures. Though his figure was growing smaller, Emily was still able to see them wrestle him roughly to the ground, and then lead him cuffed to one of the cars. One hand was over her mouth as she watched, the other holding her stomach as it churned, threatening to make her sick.

* * *

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	7. Chapter 7

"They what?" Cheryl demanded incredulously over the phone to Ken Neilson, her friend in the CIA.

"They found your people Cheryl, or at least one of them. I just heard ten minutes ago, they're flying him back here. He should be in L.A. by late tonight."

"They found Matt? What about Emily?" Cheryl had discussed her missing friends with Ken several times over the last two years, never able to tell her much more than that the Agency was looking.

"I don't know, they didn't say anything, just said they have him in custody. They found him in shipyard though, she might be on one of the boats."

"She should have been with him though, they would have stayed together." She spoke more to herself now, trying to work through her confusion.

"I don't know Cheryl, but I can tell you that Matt is in for a rough night."

"They are going to waste any time before interrogating him, then?"

"Not a second. They want both of them, they want justice for the agent we lost, they want to know where that kid is."

"Okay, well that's going to be a problem, because they didn't kill that agent, that kid's long gone by now, and if Emily got away Matt is never going to say anything about her."

"I figured as much, you don't need to tell me."

"I coming there tonight, I want to see him."

"I figured as much, but I don't know if they'll let you."

"I'm a negotiator, Ken, I'm trained to be persuasive."

"Don't I know it. I guess I'll be seeing you tonight then."

"Count on it. And, Ken, thanks for calling me."

"Don't mention it." She could hear the smile in his voice even as he hung up.

After two years of running, Matt was finally coming home, but without Emily. There was definitely something off with that. Not that she wasn't surprised by the idea of Matt protecting Emily by sending her off on a boat, but Emily wouldn't go for it. If Matt was going down, she would be right there beside him. And, if she was on a boat, why didn't Matt just go with her? Cheryl's head raced with a million thoughts; among them was perhaps the most nagging: what had they been doing all this time?

Later that night, Cheryl took the short walk over to the CIA building, trying to brace herself, not only for the fight she was bound to get from the Agency, but what she might see when she finally got a look at Matt. Matt after spending two years running. She got inside the building, flashed her FBI ID at the security guard, handed him her gun and badge, and walked through the metal detector. Then he stopped her and demanded her purpose.

"You have one of my agents in custody," she told him simply. The guard looked at her oddly, but waved her through anyway. Ken met her right before she got on the elevator.

"Hey, I was just going up to meet you."

"I figured I'd come down and save you the trip, they've got him downstairs."

"Lead the way," Cheryl said, holding her arm out, gesturing him forward.

They took the elevator down a floor, and then walked through several hallways before coming to a room with a handful of men standing outside it.

"Ken, what are you doing down here, and who's your friend?" Agent Kyle Fowler asked.

"Man, did you bring a date down here trying to impress her?" Agent Brad Melbourne teased.

"No, this is Agent Cheryl Carrera, the SAC of the CNU over at the FBI."

"So, this clown we've been chasing is yours?" Fowler asked. All but one of the agents gathered outside were with Fugitive Apprehension, the other one had announced Matt and Emily's disappearance to Cheryl two years ago, and now gave her a displeased look.

"Yes, both agents were under my command, and good friends. Do you have any leads on Agent Lehman?"

"No, he won't say a damn thing about her. We tried on the flight over, and Terrorism is in with him now."

"Has he said anything?"

"Nothing, won't even tell us why he looks like he's been in a fist fight."

"Is he injured?" Cheryl became alarmed at the mention of the fight.

"No, just superficial cuts. And, no they aren't from our people."

Suddenly the door to the interrogation room flew open, and a very grumpy Terrorism agent walked out.

"This guy isn't saying shit. We might need to switch to more…persuasive tactics," Agent Brian Cullen sneered slightly at this.

"Are you suggesting torture methods?" Cheryl demanded.

"Who the hell invited you?"

"I invited myself. That's my agent you have in there, and I want to talk to him."

"What makes you think we'll let you do that?"

"He trusts me, and you'll be listening in. Do I need to spell it out?"

"No, fine, get in there." But Cheryl had no intention of betraying Matt, and she knew that Matt would know the CIA was listening. Stealing herself, she pushed open the door to her first glimpse of Matt.

He sat hunched over with his arms on the table, and his head buried in them. He was paler than she remembered, but still had that full head of dark hair.

"I told you people a hundred times already, I'm not telling you anything!" Matt shouted angrily into his arms.

"You haven't told me." Matt heads shot up at the sound of her voice, and he stared at her like he almost didn't believe his eyes.

"Cheryl."

"How have they been treating you, Matt?" She walked over to him.

"Like a criminal." Matt stood up from his seat, and Cheryl immediately embraced him.

"Where the hell have you been all this time?" She demanded, pulling back.

"Here and there. We never stayed one place too long."

"We, so you have been with Emily?"

"Of course, she made the whole ordeal bearable."

"Then where is she?"

"Sorry Cheryl, I can't tell you that. She's safe, that's all that matters." Cheryl decided to drop that topic for now; she'd pick it up again later.

"Do you know where Alex Diallo is?"

"That I can honestly tell you I don't know. We dropped him off on the other side of the border two years ago, so he could be anywhere now."

"Okay, what can you tell me about the dead CIA agent they found in Emily's apartment."

"We didn't have anything to do with that. We found him there after we got back from dropping off the kid."

"Matt, why did you two take off?" Cheryl finally asked the question burning in her mind for the last two years.

"They won't believe that we didn't kill that CIA agent, and we'd just commit several felonies. We were freaked out, it seemed like the best solution at the time." Matt gave a small shrug.

"And now?"

"One of us isn't in jail, that's good enough for me."

"Matt, tell me something I can tell her parents after two years of worrying." The couple had repeatedly called Cheryl for updates on their daughter, updates she really couldn't give.

"You can tell them that she's safe, and happy," Matt answered after a long breath.

"Is that really true though?"

"Safe yes, happy, maybe not at this particular moment, but she will be."

Cheryl was about to speak when they heard a loud knock on the one-way mirror.

"I have to go, they seem to be getting antsy," She got up from the chair she'd been sitting in and started to walk toward the door.

"Cheryl?" Matt called to her.

"Yeah?" She turned around to face him again.

"Do you remember the Connors case? You were primary, it was about five months into our partnership?"

"Yeah, what about it?" None of that was right, Matt was clearly trying to tell her something.

"Didn't everything seem so much easier back then?"

"It always seems easier when your in your twenties, Matt," She answered with a soft smile, before walking out the door.

"You didn't get anything useful out of him," Agent Cullen barked.

"I guess it didn't matter that it was me, he still knew you were watching." Cheryl shrugged.

"Jeeves, your turn." Cullen instructed his partner, the other Terrorism agent.

"When are you transferring him to a federal prison?"

"When we get tired of trying to get information out of him."

Cheryl rolled her eyes, gave one last look at the room, and walked down the hallway to leave the building.

* * *

_Sorry it took so long to get this one up, I graduated the other day, so I've been busy. I'm at home for a week so updates might not be as regular as I'd like, it depends on how much computer access I have. Should have another part up Monday, which will have Emily, btw. Thanks so much to everybody who reviewed the last chapter, I was really excited to see so many! _


	8. Chapter 8

**The Emerald Genie **

Emily stood at the back of the boat, shaking, tears streaming down her face, staring at the spot where Matt had been until she couldn't see it any longer. Then she grabbed her suitcase, and looked around until one of the very uncomfortable looking sailors approached her.

"My name is Bobby. Jake asked me to show you where you'll be sleeping." Bobby was quite tall, with brown hair and eyes, and neatly groomed facial hair. He was one of the younger sailors on the Emerald Genie, this was only his third trip.

Bobby might have been young, but he knew watching a pregnant woman sob hysterically as her lover left her wasn't something he was likely to see again while working on a fishing boat. He also knew he preferred it that way; he'd taken a job on a boat to avoid that. He'd chosen a job that would take him out to sea for months at a time, so that he could avoid the entanglements of love, and scenes like that. Bobby felt a broken heart once, and he'd rather not be reminded of it.

Emily nodded at the young man, and followed him below deck, and through a hallway to a small, simple room. There was a set of bunk beds, a small wooden chair in the corner, a dresser, and a circular window that sat just above sea level. This was her home for however long it took them to hit the Marshall Islands, which could be weeks.

"The rest of us will be staying in the other rooms, the bathroom is at the end of the hallway, and the kitchen is back the way we came. If you need anything, you can just ask one of us, and if you need to talk to Jake, he's usually by the controls." He rattled off information that he wasn't even sure would stay in her head.

Emily nodded again, staring blankly around the room, feeling completely lost for the first time since they'd started running.

"Uh, are you going to be okay?" His question came out awakwardly.

"Yes, thank you," she replied turning to him.

Satisfied now that she'd finally spoken, Bobby left her to herself, and returned to the deck to work.

Emily released her suitcase, shut the door, and crawled onto the bed, curling into herself. Then the tears that had so briefly stopped started again, as Emily cried herself into a mournful sleep.

**

* * *

Los Angeles**

"So he won't say anything about her?" Lia had stayed late at work and pounced on Cheryl as soon as she came back from seeing Matt. The two had become close over the last two years, as they tried to track down their friends, to little success.

"All he'll say is that she's safe, and will be happy soon," Cheryl confessed, throwing her hands up. It was good to know that Emily was alive, but her whereabouts were still a mystery.

"She wouldn't leave him willing." Lia stated suddenly. She was parked on of the chairs in Cheryl's office, while her friend and boss paced as best she could in her cramped office.

"I know that. You know, he did say something interesting though." She remembered his inaccurate comments about their negotiation from several years ago.

"Yeah, he asked me about a negotiation from when we were partners. But, what was strange was that he said I was primary, and that it was five months after we became partners."

"What's strange about that?"

"He was primary, and it was in our third year as partners."

"Oh…well, is there some reason you should remember that?" Lia was even more confused than Cheryl now.

"Well, I guess. I remember I was really distracted that day, I couldn't think straight, because I thought I was pregnant. Not to mention that I was dating a complete loser at the time."

"I'm guessing you found out later you weren't?"

"Yeah, but not before I spent the day acting like a rabbit on speed. I was so neurotic that day that I'm pretty sure I scared Matt out of ever having kids." Cheryl was smiling at the memory now. Matt had tried to be supportive and understanding, but had no idea how to deal with a very anxious Cheryl.

Lia picked up on her nostalgic mood and asked, "do you think if all this hadn't happened two years ago that Matt and Emily would have a baby by now?"

"I don't know, they were never really forthcoming about how serious their relationship was-" Cheryl suddenly cut herself off. "Oh my god."

"What? What's wrong?"

"I think I just figured out his message. Actually, I think you figured it."

"Oh?" Lia asked surprised, "You want to share?"

"I think Emily's pregnant." Cheryl fell into her office chair, shock written on her face.

"Wow, really? You think she could be?" Lia stared at her wide-eyed.

"Yeah, and I think she's about five months along."

"You think that's what the five months thing meant?"

"Yes, I do. I think he must have know they were getting close, and sent Emily off on one of the boats. And, she actually went to protect their baby." Cheryl blew into her hands, her mind racing with this new theory.

"That means that Emily is sitting pregnant and alone on a boat somewhere in the Atlantic." Lia concluded, her voice heavy with sympathy.

"Yeah, she must be terrified. I sure as hell would be."

"Sure…are you going to tell her parents this?"

Cheryl shook her head, "I'm not even sure I got the message right, and something like this would only worry them more."

"So…what about Matt? Are they prosecuting him?"

"They have to finish interrogating him, but yeah, I'm sure he'll be charged with several federal crimes."

"The murder?"

"No, they have no proof for that, and I think they still assume it was Emily, being that it was in her apartment."

"We have to help him, Cheryl." Lia didn't believe Matt and Emily were killers anymore than Cheryl did.

"Is your other half still here?"

"He's with Frank playing paintball as always." Lia and Duff had moved in together a few months ago, and were happy as clams together.

"Good, we need to visit them." Cheryl rose from her seat, and with Lia by her side, headed down to HRT's domain.

When they reached the Kill House the pair came stumbling out laughing and covered in red paint. They clearly had fun pelting each other without mercy.

"Hey!" Duff greeted Lia eagerly with a kiss. Frank simply nodded to both women in greeting.

"Did you talk to him?" he was breathing heavily from their exercise and laughing, but now completely serious and focused.

"I did, and now I'm going to ask the three of you for your help clearing him." Cheryl had her eyes on all three as she spoke.

"As if we'd turn you down?" Frank cracked, to which Lia and Duff nodded in agreement.

"Alright then. We have to prove two things: that Alexander Diallo is not in that gang, and therefore not a terrorist, and that Matt and Emily didn't kill the CIA agent."

"Who are we thinking did kill him, the gang?"

"Actually, yes Duff, that's exactly what I think."

"So do we have a plan of attack?" Frank wondered.

"A loose one. Lia, as usual I need to gather ever shred of intelligence available on that gang and on Diallo. Frank, Duff, I need you to sniff around in their territory and see if anybody know about a hit from two years ago. I also need you to get over to UCLA and question anybody who was familiar with Diallo. I'll talk to the kids parents, and see what the CIA, Homeland Security, and whoever else Matt and Emily may have pissed off with this, know about both events."

"Sounds good. By the way, did Flannery ever mention where they've been for the last two years, or where Lehman is now?"

"Won't say anything about where they've been, all we know is Philadelphia. As for Emily, he gave me a cryptic message that probably means she's pregnant, and is likely on a boat to nowhere."

"Uh sorry, come again?" Frank looked at her blankly, not able to process what she'd just said, while Duff's mouth hung open slightly.

"She's probably about five months, provided I got his message right."

"Oh shit."

"That stays between the four of us, everybody clear on that?" Cheryl watched three heads nod at her. Matt sacrificed a lot to protect Emily, they weren't about to screw that up.

"So we start investigating first thing tomorrow?" Duff asked; he'd get a more detailed explanation of everything from Lia later.

"Yep, unless we get called to a scene." There was again nods all around. Duff and Frank may not have been as close to the fugitive duo as Cheryl and Lia, but close enough to help. And, close enough to know that the two negotiators liked to avoid bloodshed whenever possible, murder just wasn't something they'd do.

**

* * *

The Emerald Genie**

Emily blinked her eyes, sore from crying herself to sleep, as she adjusted herself to being awake. Still drowsy she rolled over, expecting to see Matt, but getting slammed by reality when all she saw was the cabin wall, inches from her face. She yanked herself up quickly, already trying to think of something to distract herself from thoughts of him. She rested her hands on her belly as she felt a gentle kick from the baby. This is what would get her through, this baby is what would keep her from completely falling apart.

She eased herself off the bed, and set to opening her suitcase, and placing clothing in the dresser. If she was stuck on this boat for a while, Emily would try to make it as comfortable as she could, try to pretend her circumstances weren't what they were. Toward the bottom of the case she found: her vitamins, medical records, and their keepsakes. It seemed Matt put everything important in her bag; he known even before they got to the docks that she'd be going alone. She set the vitamins and records on the dresser, and sat to look at their keepsakes, which was generally a pile of photos.

There was an old photo of Matt with his parents and brother, before his mother died, both boys grinning from ear to ear, and clearly plotting something. The next one she picked up was one of Emily with her family, taken a few Easter's before they left. There was a couple photos of them with longtime friends; Emily in a bar with her two girlfriends, and Matt with a couples guys, standing around a '68 Corvette, which they all helped restore years ago. There was a third photo of them with friends, more recent than the other two, and with Cheryl, Lia, Duff, and Frank, grinning from the bar at Sloan's. It had been taken before anybody knew they were dating, but Matt had managed to slip his hand in hers.

The last photo was of the just the two of them, each with an arm wrapped around the other, leaning close to each other, Matt was whispering something that made her giggle. They looked so happy in the photo; their eyes were lit up, not yet weighed down by two years of running, and their lips set in easy smiles. They also hadn't gained the pasty pale skin tone from working nights and sleeping days, or the dull hair and thinner frames from doing most of their grocery shopping from convenience stores. Emily tossed the photo into the pile with the others, as her eyes began to well up.

She was surprised to find two papers, as there should only have been one. One was written in Spanish, the one that should have been there, which she tossed into the pile with the photos. The other was a folded sheet of white paper that she opened to find a note in Matt's handwriting. He'd written her a note before he'd gone to the casino to get her. Emily's hands shook slightly as she held the paper, purposely not looking at it. She didn't know if she could handle reading what he wrote to her without bursting into sobs again. Tears already falling from her eyes, she gave up the idea of trying to stop them, and turned to the note.

_Em, _

_I know right now you must hate me for leaving you, but you know I didn't want to. You and the baby both need stability, and this is the only way that will happen. I wanted to be there with you when you go into labor, and I wanted to be the one who puts our newborn child into your arms. It kills me that I can't be with you, and it scares me that I may not hear your voice for years, that I may not know if you're all right. But, know that when they let me out I'll find you. I miss you and love you both. _

_Always, Matt _

Emily tears had started flowing faster the longer she read, and by the end like she expected, she caught in an uncontrollable flood. She lay down again, curling into herself, holding the note, as her body twitched with sobs. She had to do this by herself. She had to have a baby in a foreign country, and make a life for them, all on her own. All she could think right then, is that even if Matt only spent a day in prison before finding her, it would still be too long.

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Diallo, my name is Cheryl Carrera, I'm with the FBI. I was wondering if I might speak to you for a moment?" Cheryl requested politely, standing on the doorstep of a small suburban home, squinting in the late afternoon sun.

The couple stood inside the door, watching her wearily, not sure if they should trust her. Cheryl couldn't exactly blame them.

"I worked with Agents Flannery and Lehman, and they're friends," she tried, using the present tense. Matt might be in a jail cell, and Emily might be fleeing to god knows where, but they were still her friends.

"Oh, of course, come in." Mrs. Diallo quickly answered at the mention of the two agents who'd helped her son escape.

"Thank you."

"So, you are a negotiator also?" Mr. Diallo wondered, as they led Cheryl to their living room, all sitting down.

"Actually, I run the Crisis Negotiation Unit here in Los Angeles." They both nodded in understanding.

"We heard that Agent Flannery was apprehended, what's going to happen to him?"

"He was formally charged this morning with aiding and abetting, crossing a border with a fugitive, forgery, obstruction of justice, and treason, though that one may not stick." Cheryl had sat through Matt's first appearance in court that morning, cringing at the list of felonies.

"Oh god, treason, isn't that punishable by death?" Mr. Diallo asked.

"Yes, but they can't prove that one, unless they prove Alex was in that gang. I'm looking to get your help to disprove that."

"How can we help with that, they don't believe us?"

"I know that. But, I need anything you can give me that shows what a good kid Alex is. Awards he's won, charity work he's done, straight A report cards, organizations he was in, former teachers that loved him. Basically, we have to make your look like the proverbial choir boy." Cheryl explained her idea to them, watching their heads nod.

"That won't be too hard with Alex, he's always been a good kid." Mrs. Diallo said proudly.

"That's what I was hoping to hear." Cheryl let out of breath of relief.

"Okay, I'll get a box, why don't you ladies go into Alex's room and start collecting his awards." Both women nodded, and Mrs. Diallo led Cheryl to her son's room, which hadn't been touched in two years.

"Agent Carrera?" She asked along the way.

"Yes?"

"We still talk to our son now and again over email, would it be safe to bring him home after this?" She looked so hopeful as see spoke to Cheryl.

"I'm hoping Mrs. Diallo." She was very happy to hear that news, if it came to it, they could bring Alex back to testify for Matt.

* * *

_jester01: I completely forgot that they can't operate in the US. Already used the CIA too much here to change it, but thanks for the reminder for the future!_

_Thanks for all the reviews and reading everybody!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Eleven Days Later**

**Los Angeles**

It was after eight o'clock, but once again Cheryl was still at work, and this time she sat in her office getting updates from Lia, Frank, and Duff. Earlier in the day they'd escorted people in and out of one of the interrogation rooms, so they could write statements in front of Alex Diallo's formerly appointed defense attorney, a District Attorney that Cheryl was reasonably friendly with, and a notary they'd borrowed for the day. The inch thick folder with all the statements was sitting on Cheryl's desk, a product of almost two weeks worth of searching and digging.

Though it wouldn't mean much in a court, Cheryl had both of Alex's parents write out statements about their son, and the impossibility of his being in a gang. She'd also tracked down two former teachers who'd been willing to come in and give statements, an elderly woman who lived next to the Diallo's since they moved in, before Alex was born, and three friends the young man had kept through the years. Getting some of them to come in had been a struggle, but with Frank and Duff's help she'd managed it.

As for the two HRT agents, they'd pulled in several people from Alex's college life. Two of the boy's three former roommates had agreed to give statements, one of them somewhat grudgingly. His girlfriend, one Cassandra Winters, had jumped at the chance to help her college sweetheart, even if she'd hadn't seen him in two years. One of his professors, the advisor for the Premed honors society, and his supervisor at the reading program he volunteered at had all also agreed to make a statement for the sake of Alex. His parents had even dragged in the owner of the hardware store where Alex spent his summers working.

By the last person, the lawyers were both nodding off, and the notary wasn't even looking as he signed and stamped the forms. But, they'd gotten it done, and were that much closer to clearing Matt. Lia had also run an extensive check on Alex and his parent's social security numbers, as well as bank, phone, former addresses, and just about every other number one could dream up. That was in another thick folder, also on Cheryl's desk. After a few last minute additions, the folders would be personally delivered to the CIA, as proof that Alexander Diallo, resident of the United States and California by birth, isn't and never was in a gang.

"How are we doing on the murder charge?" Cheryl asked her colleagues.

"Oooh! Good news on that!" Lia announced eagerly. "I finally managed to get an answer Border Patrol. They clocked Matt and Emily at 7:18 that night they broke Alex out of prison."

"It takes what? Two hours to get from here to the border?" Cheryl wondered allowed.

"Yeah, about that." Lia told her.

"Lia, what was TOD on the CIA agent?" Frank asked.

"Between seven and eight p.m."

"Oh thank god," Cheryl breathed. "Matt and Emily were performing a jailbreak during the murder."

"CIA is going to love that alibi." Frank grinned, wishing he could hear Cheryl offer that to them.

"Okay, this is very good. It's not enough though, they will want a new suspect before they give up on Matt and Emily."

"I may be able to help with that," Duff offered.

"I thought you two haven't heard anything?" The guys had been asking questions, but as far as they told Cheryl they'd been unsuccessful.

"I talked to a friend who runs snitches for the Bureau's drug unit, one of his snitches is friendly with the gang. If they killed that Agent, he'll know. I should hear from him in a couple of days."

"Great, we may actually pull this off." Cheryl gave him a small smile.

"Have you been able to get in to see Matt again?" Frank asked the question all three had been thinking. Cheryl had been trying since that first day to see him again, and to their knowledge, had little success.

"Only for about ten minutes. They're keeping him isolated from the rest of the prison, only certain people can see him. He still looks exhausted, but they it doesn't look like they've been mistreating him at all."

"That just means they are aware of all the publicity attached to this mess. He shows up with bruises, they have hell to pay." Frank launch a cynical comment.

"I don't really care what motivation they have for not beating him, just as long as they aren't."

"Did you get to ask him about Emily?" What Lia really meant, was did Cheryl get confirmation on her guess about Matt's cryptic message.

"No, I didn't get the chance." There was nods all around the room, maybe it was better she didn't get that chance. Prison conversations, with few exceptions, were heavily monitored, somebody could have deduced from their conversation that Emily was pregnant. They didn't want any of their federal law enforcement pals getting that information. And, they didn't want to press to find out anymore about Matt and Emily than they already knew either.

Since news broke that the two 'ran off together' and the FBI, CIA, and Homeland Security were involved, but increasingly tight-lipped, the couple had been granted nicknames. The press dubbed them the 'Real-life Scully and Mulder without the aliens'. They were almost making fun of the pair, especially on late night talk shows , they had become a punch line. When they found out Matt returned the headlines had screamed things like, "Mulder returns without Scully" and "Mulder caught, but where's Scully?".

Their friends figured it was an inevitable comparison. They were FBI, partners, very good at what they did, and it eventually broke that the were in fact involved. Not to mention that there was obviously something going on behind the scenes that the public wasn't privy to, forcing insane (and few sane) conspiracy theories to flourish. Speculation and hypothesis on the pair and their crimes was being thrown around in the news as if it were concrete fact. The small group gathered in Cheryl's office, though used to this, hated it with a passion.

But, truth be told, they had more to worry about at the moment, as they were betting that Cheryl figured Matt's message right. None of them were particularly fond of the idea of Emily pregnant and alone, likely hundreds of miles from anyone she knew, and anyone who could support her.

**

* * *

**

By now they'd sailed around North America, and down through the Panama Canal and out the other end. This was closer than actually sailing around Africa, and passed India, and under much of Asia. They were well passed the U.S. western coast, but still two days away from the Marshall Islands, and the rest of the South Pacific Islands.

Emily had been spending most of her time cooking and cleaning, much to the delight of the crew. She had nothing else to do, and it helped keep her mind off Matt, and how much she missed him, even after only a week. The first night was the hardest; after crying herself to sleep, she'd woken up several times and started crying again until she fell back into slumber. She knew it wasn't good for the baby, but her nights ended in tears and her mornings began in them. It was just so hard to lay in bed without him beside her, and know that she might never see him again. It was even worse when she woke up, forgetting she wasn't in their crappy apartment, and fully expecting to see him.

She'd had to stop herself several times from running up to Jake and begging him to turn around and go back. She would always remind herself that it wasn't Matt that she would be going back to, but instead a prison cell, where they would steal her child a second after she birthed it. It was this thought that kept her going, that kept her breathing. Their child. She'd promised Matt she'd take care of their baby, and scared as she was, she would do it. She wondered if she would ever see him again, and if their child would ever know its father. She wondered if Matt would actually be able to find them, if he would ever even get to know if he had a son or daughter. Every time she touched her stomach, this is what she hoped.

In the meantime the guys who worked on the boat, though they been uncomfortable with her presence the first two or three days, had gotten used to seeing her around. She generally kept to herself and stayed pretty quiet, but by now had talked with several of the sailors. It was mostly the older ones who talked to her, the younger ones were still a little nervous to have a woman invading their territory so to speak. They tended to be curious about the baby, and Matt, though she didn't offer much on him. And fortunately, none of them asked about what she was running from. They probably figured she wouldn't have told them anyway.

Emily was washing dishes from lunch now, content to be useful to the crew. At first Jake had told her not to, that she'd paid her way, but she insisted, she need something to keep her busy. She nearly dropped the dish she was washing as she was hit with a wave of nausea.

"Uh, God," Larry Jacobs, a fifty-two year old permanent resident of the seas, grunted as he came from the bathroom, past the kitchen when Emily stood. He was one of the ones who'd spoken to Emily at length.

"You okay Larry?"

"I've got an awful case of the runs, but I'll be fine."

"You're the third one with that." She stated bluntly, worried something was going around. She didn't mention that she was one of the three.

"Actually, I'm probably the sixth one then. Not a lot of the guys like to admit that to a woman, so you gotta figure just as many are hiding it. Just as well. You don't need to know about our bowels, Krista."

"True, unless something I cooked is responsible."

"If Bernie can't give us the shits with how bad he cooks, then I doubt you did."

"Then why is everybody sick?"

"Probably just some diet imbalance or something." Larry shrugged at her, just as Timothy Bard came running down the stairs, practically sprinting to the bathroom. Even after he shut the door, they could hear him heaving.

"That isn't good, something's making everybody sick Larry."

"Damn, water's probably bad. Let me grab Jake, he'll get the crew together to see how many are sick." Larry went to find Jake, and left Emily to the dishes she was washing.

* * *

Ten minutes later the crew was gathered for a short meeting about the illness plaguing them.

"Okay boys, there seems to be something going around, and we need to figure out if it's stomach flu or something more serious. So, nobody gets to be shy. Who's got the shits?" Jake was clear and to the point, as any sailor would be.

He was disappointed to see most of the hands go up.

"Alright, anybody been puking?" Seven of the eighteen-man crew raised their hands.

"Anybody been sick since before yesterday?" Five hands went up, and Emily counted herself as six. She wasn't really included in the meeting per say, but was free to listen.

"Shit." Jake was not pleased about that, but Emily wasn't sure what that meant, though stomach virus was a twenty-four hour bug.

"Krista?" He suddenly turned to her. "Have you been sick?"

"Yeah, for a couple of days." She was startled a minute by the sudden attention, but gathered herself to respond.

"Damn it. Alright, Bobby and Lance, start bringing up the crates of bottled water. Nobody is to drink the ships filtered water. We're probably looking at Cholera, which means we have a contaminant in the system. Only bottled water till we get to the Islands.

Timmy, Andy, Chris, Jerry, and Pat, you all grab a few bottles of water and get in bed. You need to rest and keep hydrated for now if you're gonna make it to the Islands. Everyone else, keep hydrated, and you feel to sick, you tell me and go lay down." Jake instructed his crew, and allowed those who'd been sick longer to rest.

Bobby and Lance came up with four crates of bottled water, a large part of their emergency water supplies. Everybody grabbed bottles and set off back to what they were doing, or to their rooms if the were one of the five.

"Krista." Jake once again, called Emily's attention.

"Yeah?" He pulled to over to the kitchen where they'd have privacy to talk.

"I don't know how cholera is going to affect your baby, and I don't know how to treat a pregnant woman. I don't have a lot of those on board," he tried to joke to lesson the severity of what he was saying.

"I guess I just do what you're having everyone else do, and hope for the best." Emily's voice came out a lot stronger than how it felt.

"Alright, then grab some water and get in bed. I'm going to send guys to check on you occasionally, okay?"

"Thanks." Emily gave him a small worried smile, and grabbed a two bottles of water. Inside her little cabin, she popped one open and took a few sips, before laying down to rest. She finally had a minute to think about what was going on. They were all sick with cholera. She was sick with cholera. Her baby was sick with cholera.

She didn't know much about the illness besides that bad water was the most common culprit, and untreated it could be fatal. But, that was enough to scare the hell out of her. Her hand drifted to her stomach, resting in over her bulge in a protective gesture. She reached her other hand under her pillow, and grasped the note from Matt. She allowed the words she'd memorized to play through her mind again, as she hoped for her and her child's health.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, the few men that hadn't raised their hands at being sick were rushing to the bathroom with everyone else, and many of the men had gotten much worse. Over half had the vomiting that accompanied the water diarrhea of cholera, and those who'd already been vomiting were experiencing muscle cramps and the beginnings of fevers. Jake was struggling to figure out how to keep the crew well enough to pilot into the Islands; they still had a days worth of ground to cover.

"Hey Krista, how are you feeling?" He greeted her, as he walked into her room. He'd been checking on her regularly as he'd promised, and was growing more worried about her.

"Fine." She was sick, how was she supposed to respond to that?

"Right. You look a little pale drink some more water." He handed her a fresh bottle.

"Ow!" Emily dropped the bottle as she went to grip it, a muscle cramp attacking her forearm.

Jake gave her a worried look. The cholera was progressing rapidly, soon muscle cramps would be the least of what the dehydration caused.

"How far are we from land?" Emily was trying not to show how worried she was, but her large belly was a constant reminder of what was at stake.

"We've got another day before we hit the Islands." Jake was lost deep in thought as he answered her. His crew might not make it another day, he had to figure out what to do.

"How's the rest of the crew?" Emily used her ability to read to people in determining that he was worried about more than just her.

"Not great," his reply was absent and unfocused, until his eyes focused on her and he gave her a small smile. "But, don't you worry, everything will be fine."

Emily nodded, though she didn't believe him. She couldn't imagine what was going through his head right then, after all, this was his boat that poisoned his crew.

Jake gave her wrist a little tap to comfort, and then left the cabin as quickly as he'd come in. Emily took a few more sips of the water, before setting the bottle down, and closing her eyes.

* * *

Jake headed to his small control room, and begin pacing as he debated what to do. He could try to pilot the boat with less than half a crew, and risk the sickest half dying, or he could call for help and try to save his men, and the pregnant young woman he'd taken on board. Shaking his head and scolding himself for how easy his decision was, Jake grabbed the radio, and began to speak.

"This Jake Mendelson of the Emerald Genie issuing a distress call. Coordinates are 9.4 longitude, 143 latitude. Repeat Emerald Genie, with a distress call. 9.4 longitude, 143 latitude. Out." He released the button and closed his eyes. Jake had never had to issue a distress call in all his years on the sea, and he considered this a testament to himself and his crew, a badge of honor.

"Emerald Genie, this is the Pickering, we're not too far from you. What's the problem? Out." His radio squawked back at him after a few minutes.

"Emerald Genie to the Pickering, we have a cholera out break. Nineteen people on board, 11 are seriously ill, one's pregnant, and the other eight are sick, but still on their feet. Out."

"Pickering to Genie. Shit, man. Do you have bottled water?" Out."

"Genie to Pickering, yeah, started drinking it yesterday. We won't make it to land though. Can you offer help? Out."

"Pickering back to Genie, yeah, give us and hour and a half. We're on our way now. Out."

"Genie to Pickering, thanks." As Jake released the button this time, he also released the breath he'd been holding. They were getting help, this was very good news. Shoving his pride deep inside him, Jake went to find his crew to let them know not to worry.

To Emily the news was received with mixed emotions. First, it meant that things were really as bad as she thought, and that made her worry more about her baby. Second, the fewer people that saw her the better, she was after all, still a fugitive. But, ultimately, they were getting help, that was what was most important. Maybe, she and her baby had a chance to make it through this. Really, God couldn't be so cruel?

An hour and twenty minutes after Emily received this announcement, it sounded like all hell broke loose out outside the closed door of her cabin. She could hear what sounded like hundreds of shoes smacking the floor, but really couldn't have been more than fifty. Things were being moved around, people were talking loudly, Jake was barking orders, as was a man's voice she didn't recognize.

Feeling tired, achy, and slightly dizzy, Emily yanked herself up off the bed, swallowed a few more mouthfuls of water, and opened the door to see the chaos. Jake and a man she didn't recognize, who likely belonged to the voice she didn't know, were talking as men helped each other up the stairs to leave the boat. Several of the men from their rescuer, the Pickering stop and stared when they saw Emily, or more correctly, saw Emily's belly.

There are few places in her life where Emily felt more uncomfortable, and she was reminded again that boat's were very much still a man's thing. Though she was sure somewhere there were a few women that would argue against that like hell. Jake and his friend caught sight of her sudden appearance after the lull in the traffic became obvious. Jake gave her a smile, and walked over to her.

"These are our friends from the Pickering come to save us. I've been talking to Scott here, and he says they have a woman on board their ship with a two-bed cabin that you can share. You think you can walk over?" Evidently, Emily looked as bad as she was feeling.

"I think so. Who's going to take the Genie in?" She wondered.

"I'll be taking her in, with a few of Scott's sailors. A few of my crew that aren't as sick will be staying too. We should be able to get her to port before we all crap out."

"You're going to risk that?"

"I worked myself to the bone to get this ship, nobody pilots her but me." He could call out, begging for help, but he'd be damned if he'd abandon his ship.

Emily shrugged, there was no arguing with a man like Jake about a boat, especially when he referred to the boat with a gender. She turned back to her room to throw a few last minute things in her bag.

Emily tried to ignore how dizzy she was beginning to feel as she finished tossing items into her bag, and started zipping it up. She never got the zipper all the way around. Everything turned black in front of her as if someone had turned her eyes off, but she was still conscious. She let go of the zipper and step back a moment, one hand out trying to get a feeling for her surroundings. Just as her hand touched something warm and likely human, her brain shut itself down and she went down.

Jake and Scott barely caught her as she collapsed, each grabbing her before she actually made it to the floor. They eased her down, and Scott began tapping at her face, hoping to revive her. Jake looked toward her abdomen, relived that so far, there was no trace of blood leaking out from beneath her.

"Jerry! Jerry!" Jake called to the tall blond Emily had seen on the dock, before she gotten on the boat.

"What happened?" Jerry had to have had a whole lot of Scandinavian blood in him, because he was at least six-four, and with that muscle, no less than 250. That was why Jake called him, the man was big enough to carry a pregnant women without struggling and jolting her about.

"Krista passed out, can you carry her onto the Pickering, Scott can show you where they're putting her, right?" He turned to his new friend to confirm the last part. Scott nodded, still gently tapping Emily's face.

Jerry nodded, and in one swift more, lifted Emily into his arms, bending at the knees to protect his back, as he rose from the floor. He'd carried much heavy things, and had little difficulty getting Emily up the stairs and onto the Pickering. Scott followed with Emily's suitcase, taking the lead once they were on the Pickering, to show Jerry to Emily's new cabin.

"This my new roommate?" Gayle Michaels asked as the two men entered her cabin, and placed Emily on the bottom bunk. She wasn't well enough to be climbing off and on the top one.

"Yeah. Gayle this is Krista, she's pregnant and has cholera. Now, being that you are the only one between these two boats that really knows about the former, can I count on you to look out for her?" Scott asked her as she studied Emily.

"Course you can, Scott. But, can I ask what the hell she doing on a fishing boat five months pregnant?" Gayle was fifty-four, still had brown hair naturally, and an adored son in college. True, it may have been a few years, but she could tell this Krista was at least five months along.

"I don't know, and neither does the Genie's captain. Her boyfriend paid him to take her to the Islands, but didn't come with." Scott shrugged, he didn't much care either.

"Alright, shoo both of you, so I can play doctor." She put both her hands up and fanned them out.

* * *

Over the next eighteen hours, Emily woke up several times, groggily and barely lucid. The first time an older woman leaned over her, examining her with a concerned and skeptical look. Emily tried to ask who she was, but she passed out before she could. Emily saw the same blurry vision of the same woman the second time she woke up, and managed only to get a glimpse of her surroundings before passing out again.

The third time, Emily saw both that same woman and the man she knew as Scott looking down on her with worry. She figured she must be on the Pickering, with her new roommate. Her head felt fuzzy, her mouth dry, her body sore, especially around her abdomen. She was definitely feeling some pain there, but was too delirious to register what it meant.

The fourth time she woke up, there was a new face in the mix, wearing a white lab coat. She glanced around, trying to ignore the pain in her belly. She was still in the cabin on the boat, so how did a doctor get there? She saw Scott, and her new roommate beside the doctor, strained expressions on their faces. Her mind came out of the fog enough to tell her body there was something warm an wet rushing between her legs. She struggled to sit up, suddenly in a panicked alert. Blood, a lot of blood on the bed. Then once again, the lights went out, and Emily was left in a feverish slumber

Emily actually really woke up a few hours later to the brightest sun she'd ever seen blazing through the open window next to her. She looked around at her surroundings to confused by what she saw to move to another thought. It looked like a doctors office or hospital, certainly not the fishing boat she'd been on, and the transport boat she'd been transferred to. They must have made it to land. Then her mind assaulted her with memories of the last time she woke up. Blood.

Ignoring the IV line in her arm, Emily lurched up, as one hand flying to her stomach. Her much slimmer stomach. She still had some of the weight she'd put on, but she knew there was no baby in her any longer. She brought her other hand to her abdomen, touching her barren belly with both hands so softly, her fingertips were barely dancing over the surface. She wanted to believe that she'd just delivered early, that a nurse would come in any minute, pushing the incubator in front of her. Emily desperately wanted to believe that she'd get to hold her baby safe in her arms, and feel the sensation of the first time it suckled on her breast.

But, Emily was smart, she knew no baby could live outside of the womb at barely 21 weeks. Not on a boat, and not in some tiny Island hospital. With this realization, tears began to slowly slip from her eyes, landing softly on the white sheet, turning it grey. She wrapped her arms across her abdomen, holding herself, as the few tears turned to torrential rains.

After a few minutes a nurse walked in, happy to see her patient awake for only a moment, until she realized the young woman already knew her child was dead.

"I'm so sorry," she uttered her condolence quietly, approaching her patient, and wrapping an arm around her.

Emily continued to cry for quite a while longer in the woman's embrace, unable to silence her pain. Her mind drifted to a thought she'd had the day before: so, God could be so cruel then?

First, she lost her family, friends, job; she'd had to give up her whole life. Then she was forced to say goodbye to the one thing she did have left from her life, Matt. Now, she lost her child before she even saw it, before it even became a child. That was the final straw for her, Emily had had enough pain at this point to last her a lifetime. She pulled back from the nurse suddenly, startling the kind woman. She began to furiously dry her eyes, no more tears, she'd cried enough the last two years to last her ten lifetimes.

"Can I get you anything dear? Call anybody?" The nurse asked her, concerned.

"Yes, where's the nearest airport? I'm going home."

* * *

_Yes, I already know that you all probably hate me right now, but this is the worst of it; it'll start to get better from here out, I promise! So, don't hate me too much, and thanks for reading, even though it's a little depressing right now, and especially reviewing._


	11. Chapter 11

Emily was fine as she stepped out of the plane onto the pathway to the airport, she was even fine when she went into the airport, but when those automatic doors opened she had to force her feet to move. It had been two years since she'd set foot in L.A., and so, two years since she'd seen her friends and family. She should be ready to see these familiar sights and faces, but two years was a long time. She'd changed, she was a fugitive now, would they even want to see her?

As soon as she left thw hospital, on what turned out to be on of the islands of French Polynesia, Emily found a man and paid him for a fake passport, before getting the first flight to L.A. It had been seven hours until they had another flight to the city, but she'd waited with her battered suitcase, curled up on one of the airports cheap, uncomfortable chairs. She'd barely eaten in days, hadn't showered in at least four, and though she'd slept, was completely exhausted.

She was desperately trying not to think about the baby, because every time she did her stomach twisted in painful knots and her already sore eyes filled with warm tears. She was trying to block all thoughts of the baby, and of telling Matt about she lost their child, from her mind. It didn't help that she knew at that very moment they'd be transporting the dead infant from the plane to the L.A. morgue, until a funeral home came to pick up the tiny body for burial.

Now, Emily hailed a cab, praying her friend still lived at the same address. Her hands shook nervously, and eyes stared, wide-open at the L.A. scenery that she'd known so well, as the cabbie navigated the congested streets. Her mind was having trouble accepting the fact that she was home, that this wasn't another unfamiliar city with a shitty apartment waiting for her. She couldn't seem to convince herself of this, even as the familiar streets and buildings stared her in the face.

Soon enough the cabbie pulled up to the building she needed, and she threw some of her rapidly diminishing funds at him, before hopping out. Instructing herself to inhale slowly, and exhale just as slowly, she snuck in after a resident, and walked up a familiar set of stairs. She walked down a hallway with the familiar dark grey rug and constantly drawn shades she remembered, and knocked on the fourth door down.

"Oh my god," Lia breathed upon opening the door, and staring into eyes she hadn't seen for two years.

"Hey Lia." It was lame, but all she could manage at the moment.

Lia yanked her inside the apartment, shut the door behind them, and embraced her friend tightly.

Emily felt tears prick her eyes. For the first time in two years she felt like she was home, and for the first time in the longest two weeks of her life, she felt safe. She pulled back from Lia for a moment.

"Can I crash here tonight? I'm going to turn myself in tomorrow, I just…I just need to sleep, to feel safe for one night. Please?" Her voice quivered as she almost plead with Lia.

"Of course!" Turning her down would never have even crossed Lia's mind, and the young woman chose to ignore Emily's promise to turn herself in. "Let me get some blankets for the couch."

Emily allowed herself to loosen the sweaty grip she held on her suitcase, as she peered around Lia's apartment, seemingly lost in a daze. The past was flowing over her now, or maybe more crashing into her, forcing her to face it. She could almost see two pajama-clad figures sitting, legs tucked under them, on the couch, gossiping like high school girls. Another memory: Frank lay back relaxed in a plush arm chair, Duff was flirting shamelessly with Lia as she moved around her kitchen mixing drinks. She could almost feel Matt's arms around her, as they sat on the loveseat, and he leaned over arguing playfully with Cheryl, who sat on the couch.

Lia hurried back in, startling Emily from her daze, and after tossing a pillow and blankets on the couch, hugged her friend again. Lia pulled back, and for the first time, really got a good look at Emily. Hair greasy, limp, and dirty, even skinnier than she had been before leaving LA, skin as pale as a sheet of paper, clothes well-worn, but her eyes were what really did it. The blue orbs were dull, lifeless, and unbelievably sad, the most significant telltale of what she'd been through. She was also not pregnant, or at least she wasn't five months along from what Lia could tell.

"You mind if I, uh, grab a shower?" Emily wasn't really comfortable under her friends gaze.

"Yeah, go ahead, there's towels in the closet in the bathroom." Lia instructed her, as Emily nodded and walked down the hall.

Once Lia heard the water going, she grabbed her phone and dialed Cheryl's number.

"Carrera."

"Emily is back." She meant to begin with something else, and then follow with that bomb, but she just blurted out what was on the tip of her tongue.

"What?" It was clear that Cheryl was completely bewildered by the statement.

"Emily knocked at my door ten minutes ago, she's in the shower now. She looks like hell, Cheryl."

"I'm coming over, I'll be there in ten minutes." She didn't even wait for a response before hanging up and tearing out her door.

Lia hung up the phone, and fell into the plush armchair behind her, her mind running circles around itself. Not two minutes after she'd sat down, her door opened, and in came in her live-in boyfriend, shirt dotted with red paint.

Duff took one look at the bed fixings on the couch, and looked at Lia. "Either I pissed you off, or we have company."

"Emily." Having already announced the woman's return once, Lia said it this time as if it was the most normal and expected thing in the world.

"What?" He blurted out.

"Emily is back, she's showering."

"I don't believe-when-how?" Duff shook his head back and forth, trying to clear it, not believing what she was saying.

"Uh, about 12 minutes ago, and I don't know, we haven't talked yet. Cheryl's on her way over, by the way."

"Wow…is she…?" Duff allowed her to fill in the blank.

"No, at least she isn't five months along yet."

"Jesus…is she okay?"

"She's breathing, but no, I wouldn't say she's alright." Emily was clearly beaten down by two years on the run.

"Have you told her about Matt, yet?"

"No, she must have some idea that he's been arrested." Duff nodded in agreement, as both became quiet and lost in their thoughts, only to be startled out of them five minutes later by a knock at the door.

"Hey, Cheryl." Lia greeted opening the door.

"Hi, Hi Duff.," she greeted walking in and seeing the HRT agent. She stopped dead when she caught sight of the figure coming down the hall toward them.

Emily also abruptly stopped when she caught sight of Duff and Cheryl. "H-Hi."

Cheryl went over and hugged her, while Duff just stared like he was seeing a ghost.

"Have you guys heard anything about Matt?" Emily was almost afraid to ask.

"Yeah, he's been indicted on several charges, they have him in federal prison now." Cheryl told her.

"Have you seen him?" Emily's voice came out very softly, her voice heavy with emotion.

"Yeah, when they first brought him in. He's okay, and we're working on getting the charges dropped."

"How?"

"By proving that Alex Diallo is a choirboy. At least that should take care of most of the charges. Forgery might be a problem."

"What about the murder charges?" Emily knew they wouldn't just forget that one of their agents was dead.

"They haven't charged him yet."

"They're waiting for me."

"That's what we figure, but we're working on that too. Just lay low for a few more days."

Emily shook her head. "No, I'm turning myself in tomorrow."

"What? They'll lock you up!"

"It doesn't matter anymore. I don't care." Emily shrugged; she'd made her decision.

"Jesus, two years, Emily, that was for nothing?"

"Things have changed."

Cheryl stared, in awe at her resignation, Duff and Lia equally bewildered behind her. Then Lia spoke.

"Emily, Matt gave Cheryl a message, we thought we'd figured it out, but now we might be wrong. We thought he was saying that you're pregnant, five months along. I guess that wasn't right?"

Emily was silent as the three stared at her expectantly, waiting for her reply. She didn't want to go here yet, she didn't want to address this issue yet.

"All I can tell you right now is that I was five months pregnant, but I lost the baby two nights ago. I can't-can't handle anymore right now."

They trio could already see the tears forming in her eyes as she tried talking about the baby, and decided to bury that topic for the time being.

"Is this why you want to give up?" Duff asked quietly.

Emily nodded, "Don't consider it giving up, so much as embracing the inevitable."

"It's giving up, Emily," Lia insisted, more harshly than she wanted to.

"Fine, then I'm giving up." Her comment also came out nastier than she wanted it to, but she was losing her patience with this intervention.

"But, after two years how can you?" Lia asked, almost in a whisper.

"How can I?" Emily demanded, growing upset. "I just spent two weeks on a boat, crying myself to sleep every night, praying for this goddamned nightmare to end, only to lose the one thing I was fighting for, that's how. I lost _everything_."

"Em, I didn't mean you haven't been through Hell, I just meant that you spent two years fighting against getting caught, if you turn yourself in, that becomes for nothing."

She shrugged, "I'm just too tired to fight anymore."

They wanted to continue fighting her, but it was obvious it would only upset her more. She wasn't going to change her mind.

"Can one of you…I need…I have some papers I won't be able to take with me, can one of you hang on to them for me?" Emily stuttered out her request.

"Of course we will." Lia volunteered, while Duff and Cheryl nodded. Emily reached into her suitcase, and pulled out a handful of papers and photos.

The first thing she handed them was the document written in Spanish, and all three could read at least a little Spanish. Enough to figure out what they were looking at, so that three heads bobbed up at lightening speed, staring at her in shock.

"Whoa, this is-"

"Yes, it is. That doesn't go outside this room. The less they know, the better." Emily cut Duff off before he could finish. The trio nodded, still slightly stunned.

"These are just some pictures we took with us, a note from Matt, and uh," Emily faltered, aggressively wiping tears from her eyes, and steadying her voice so she could finish, "sonogram photos."

Lia gathered the materials for safekeeping, stowing them away in a wooden chest in her bedroom.

* * *

_I promise it will get happy soon, but there's a few things that need to be dealth with first. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and not hating me for killing the baby. _


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning Emily snuck out of Lia's apartment, not wanting another argument, and walked right into the CIA building. It didn't take long before there were a dozen agents with guns on her, and cuffs were slapped on her wrists. They dragged her off to an interrogation room, and secured her to the table, before standing and staring at her.

"Do you think we're just going to let you off, since you turned yourself in? Cause it doesn't work like that sweetheart, you killed one of ours, you're going nowhere but federal prison."

Emily remained silent, staring tiredly at the two-way glass, ignoring the angry agents.

"Damn it, you walked in here, you talk to us!" He leapt up form his position on the wall, and leaned less than an inch from her face.

"You really want me to talk, give me five minutes with Matt. Then I'll tell you everything I know." She asked quietly, once he'd moved himself out of her personal space.

"Yeah, right. You think we're going to let you talk to your boyfriend?"

"If you want a confession, yeah, you'll let me." Emily told him with smugness she didn't feel. She was playing their game now, and it felt so wrong to be on this side, to be the crimminal, to be handcuffed to a table.

"You're going to give us a confession for five minutes with your boyfriend?" He was evidently bewildered by this thought.

"Yes."

"Honey, he isn't doing it right if it only takes five minutes." One of the agents cracked.

"I need to talk to him, it's important." She ignored their barb.

"Fine, we'll give you your five minutes, then you're spilling you guts, deal?" He relented, figuring they had nothing to lose.

"Deal," she parroted back to him.

"Bower, go get Flannery from the prison." The head agent instructed another one, who hurried out to do as asked.

* * *

Two hours later, Emily was still waiting for them to get back from the prison, nervous as can be, but trying to appear bored. The agent who'd gotten in her face was still in the room with her, watching her as they waited, his eyes studying her. The door suddenly opened, and Bower enter with Matt in tow, wearing full chains.

Matt stared part shocked, part horrified at seeing Emily. They hadn't told him why he was here, he'd assumed it was for more interrogation, but he stared at her now, unsure what to feel. He loved her and missed her, but he sent her away to protect her and their child, their child which he could tell she certainly wasn't carrying anymore. His heart started pounding so hard, he didn't even notice them taking the chains off.

Emily watched his eyes when he came in, shock, love, and fear radiated through them, and she felt the guilt of losing their child weigh upon her. He was the sight she'd been missing for two weeks, the one source of comfort she'd desperately needed now, and she only had a few minutes with him. A few minutes during which she had to break his heart.

"Alright, you have five minutes." He announced, after having taken Emily's cuffs, and leaving the two alone.

"Em, what happened? What are you doing here?" Matt demanded quickly, rushing over to her, and grabbing her by her arms.

"A few days ago, we all got sick on the boat, and I, I lost the baby, Matt." The tears she'd struggled to hold back over the last day or so, broke, and began washing over her face in a pained flood.

Matt didn't say anything, he'd already figured as much when he saw her. Instead he wrapped his arms tightly around her as his own tears began to fall, tracing rivers over his cheeks.

He pulled back from her after a moment, and tears still falling asked, "Tell me what happened."

"People started getting sick, it was cholera, and Jake called for help, and got the sickest on another boat. I fainted, they must have carried me on, but after a while I woke up at a hospital in French Polynesia. I started bleeding a lot, they, they," she began crying too hard to speak again.

"It's okay," Matt told, hugging her again.

Emily pulled back this time, and still crying, "they had to take the baby, they cut me open and took our baby."

He watched her crying, practically hysterical as she spoke, and though his heart broke for their lost child, he was thankful they managed to save Emily.

"We had a son, Matt. We should have had a son, but now he's at the morgue, and we can't even bury him." She moved back into him, her arms wrapped as tight as she could around him, face planted in his shoulder.

Matt's mind was whirling about; their baby boy was dead. He didn't make it because they were on the run, if they had been home, in LA, he would have lived. Emily wouldn't have gotten sick on that boat, and he would have been holding his son in another 19 weeks. Matt held on to Emily just as tightly as she held to him, his tears flowing as he tried to offer her comfort while absorbing this news. Their child gone, just like that.

Three CIA agents shifted uncomfortably as they watched and listened to the couple through the two-way glass. Cheryl had joined moments before Matt had arrived, having received a phone call from her friend, Ken. She watched the awkward CIA agents with annoyance; they put her friends in this position, they should see the fallout.

"So those two look like killers and terrorists to you?" She asked unkindly, sarcasm more than just tingeing her voice.

"Listen, they have my sympathies, but that doesn't excuse what they did." The head agent insisted.

"Yeah, on that. Here." She handed him two thick folders.

"What the hell is this shit?"

"That is a complete and thorough background check on Alex Diallo performed by one of the Bureau's best Intelligence Analysts. And this one holds statements, from his parents, teachers, friends, former employer, basically everyone who has ever known the kid, and couldn't possibly imagine him as a gangbanger."

"This is supposed to prove what?"

"If Alex Diallo isn't a gangbanger then all, except one of your charges against Matt just died. No aiding and abetting, no obstruction, and there sure as hell is no treason. All you have left on him is forgery."

"If this says what you say it does. But, we still have Scully here on murder." He spit at her.

"You're really enjoying the press on this one aren't you?"

"Hey, I didn't give them the dumb nicknames, I'm just utilizing them."

Cheryl shook her head, _stupid ass_, "on the murder charge, I have a few things that will help with that too." She dumped a thin manila envelope on the pile of folders.

"And this is?" He asked her impatiently.

"An affidavit from Border Patrol confirming that Agents Matt Flannery and Emily Lehman were stopped going across the border at 7:18 the night that your agent was murdered. This is accompanied by a copy of the ME's report stating TOD as between 7-8 pm. And lastly, a statement from a snitch handler in the Bureau's Drug Unit, describing a conversation he had with a snitch, who is going to remain anonymous for his own protection, about the murder. Specifically, about how three young men from this gang were discussing it the day after in great detail, and cleaning the gun they claimed to have used. They originally went to kill my negotiators, who weren't home, so they settled for your agent, who I assume was also looking for my agents." Duff's friend had finally gotten back to him this morning, and the HRT agent had gone speeding through the Bureau to get the statement to Cheryl.

"I bet you're real pleased with yourself."

"I'll be pleased when those two people have their lives back." She nodded at the glass, and the couple embracing through tears behind it.

"We still have them on the forgery charges."

"You know how we were talking about the press about two minutes ago? Well, I like them too, and when I hand them the extra copies I have of this stuff, and describe how even though it proves their innocence, after forcing these two people on the run for two years, and knowing that they just lost their child, you still insist on holding them for a law they broke freeing an innocent young man." She held his gaze while she made her promise in an icy tone.

He glared back at her, pissed he was beat. Then he relented. "We'll have to look over this stuff before we release them."

"You have until the end of business today, five o'clock should give you plenty of time. If not I find my friend at the Times, and he gets their story in tomorrow's paper." Cheryl didn't wait for a response, but turned her heel, and marched out the door.

Matt and Emily were startled by the door opening, but knew they'd been there for much more than the five minutes she'd been promised.

"Hey." Cheryl greeted, allowing them to collect themselves. "So, you two will be out of here by tonight."

"What?" They both stammered.

"We collected enough evidence to prove your innocence. Unless they want to look bad in the press, they'll drop the charges and release you both tonight."

"T-Thank you Cheryl," Matt stuttered, too stunned to know what else to say, while Emily just nodded her head enthusiastically agreeing.

"I want my best negotiators back. The Bureau keeps sending me these trainees that are just not ready for LA's crazies yet." She grinned, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and also not sure what to say.

"They are really going to let us go?" Emily wondered in disbelief.

"Yeah, yes, you will be free to bury your son." Cheryl gave her a meaningful look.

"Thank you," she replied softly, tears in her eyes.

"Which funeral home do you want to use? I'll call them to pick him up, so the morgue doesn't get antsy." If they left the baby unclaimed, the morgue might get impatient and shove him in a state grave.

"Ginty and Jones, they took care of my grandmother a few years ago. And his name is Sean, Sean Flannery." Sean had been the boy's name that the Matt and Emily had finally agreed upon.

"Sean Flannery," she said with a thoughtful smile, the reality of the child hitting her just then. "It sounds right."

"Yeah, it does." Matt said sadly.

"I have a few things to take care of and the CNU, but I'll be back to pick you up tonight. Just sit tight for a while longer." She gave them both hugs, and walked out the door.

* * *

_Just a note, I'm not sure how people go about the death of a baby at 21 weeks, but since it's pretty developed by then, and called a stillbirth not a miscarriage (second trimester semantics), I decided it should get buried. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you for reading and reviewing!_


	13. Chapter 13

Nobody came in to separate Matt and Emily. In fact nobody came in for the next few hours period, it seemed to the couple that they'd been forgotten. Not that they minded, after Cheryl had left they'd pulled two chairs together, and had been practically fused together since. They didn't talk much, a few short conversations here and there about the past two weeks, being home, and Cheryl's announcement that the charges were being dropped, but mostly they just sat and waited.

When the door finally did open, after would had to have been several hours, both tensed, still not convinced they'd be released. They both rose and turned toward the CIA agent entering, hands tightly joined together, neither uttering so much as a greeting. He came to stand in front of them, and just stared at them for a minute, their skin crawling under his gaze. They didn't trust him, and didn't believe he'd let them go without a serious fight.

"We've had a chance to review the documentation that Agent Carrera submitted, and in light of this new information, we've decided to release you both. Mr. Flannery, the charges against you are being formally dropped as we speak, and Ms. Lehman, we aren't going to charge you with anything." He deliberately refused to use Agent to address them, just to remind them, that thought they were being released they lost their careers, and had very little except each other to hang on to.

"So, we're free to go?" Emily asked, ignoring his nasty tone.

"Yes, without charges we can't hold you." He shrugged and turned to leave, but stopped himself, "One other thing."

"Yeah?" Matt asked a tad impatiently, he knew it couldn't be that damned easy.

"I'm sorry about your son." Then he walked about briskly, leaving two very surprised people in his wake.

"Matt?" Emily asked, coming out of the shock after a short silence.

"Yeah?"

"What do we do now?" It seemed like such a simple question, but carried the proverbial weight of a fleet of 747 jets. They had no jobs or apartment, and they had no idea what happened to everything they left behind.

"We'll figure it out. God, we don't have to run anymore, Em. Can you even imagine what that's going to feel like?" He was already breathless with the idea.

"After this long, no. I'll tell you when it hits me." She gave him a smile, the first one she felt in a long time. Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and held her close as they walked out of the interrogation room, and out of that building for hopefully the last time.

"Matt! Emily!" A woman shouted, sticking a microphone in their faces, while her partner did the same with a video camera. This triggered a swarm around them, as what must have been as at least seventy reporters, cameramen, and photographers rushed over to them.

"Where have you been all this time!"

"Why is the CIA suddenly releasing you!"

"Did you do any of what they accused!"

"What did you do on the run!"

"Emily, when did you come back!"

"Did you kill the CIA agent!" Questions were shouted at them from every direction, as they struggled to push through the crowd, ignoring the volley. Matt pulled Emily closer to him, trying to shield her as they worked their way through the crowd.

"Emily is it true you were pregnant!" That one got their attention. If they'd had any doubts about how the press knew of their release, they had none now. The CIA leaked it, along with what they'd heard about the baby.

"Yeah," another shouted, "is it true you miscarried!"

"Matt, was the baby yours! Did you know about it!"

"How did you lose your baby, Emily!"

"Emily, what happened to your baby!" Matt could feel Emily begin to shake in his arms. This was too much, too soon. These people had no right to ask about their child, especially when the pain was so fresh.

Desperate to stop the onslaught, Matt nixed the idea of catching a taxi, and instead crossed the street, jogging out of the crowd of reporters. They might have followed, if they hadn't seen where they were heading to- the FBI building sat only a few buildings down. Matt and Emily burst through the doors, and caught their breath a moment, before approaching the guard.

"We're here to see SAC Carrera." Matt announced.

"You have ID?"

"No, we don't. It's long story, we just need to see her now." Matt practically begged the man.

"Hold on a minute." He made a quick phone call.

"I can't actually let you up without any kind of ID, but Agent Carrera is on her way down now." He apologized.

Matt nodded, and, arm still around Emily, moved off to the side, allowing others to go through the security checkpoint. He turned to Emily, concerned that she hadn't said anything, and was still shaking. She had a hand gripping his shirt, and was staring off into space, the first signs of tears, shining in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. They'll get tired of us eventually, and in the meantime, we just lay low." He tried to tell her, grabbing her free hand.

"They know about the baby. How could they tell them about the baby?" Her eyes were wide and searching his face.

"I know, I'm pissed too, but they're just mad they had to let us go. We just have to keep pretending to ignore them." Matt told her, squeezing her hand.

"They know Matt, that's mean everybody we know will too, and they'll have questions. I don't want to talk about him yet, I'm not ready to talk about him. I can't talk about him, Matt; it hurts too much to even think about him." She was growing more upset as she spoke, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. "And, what if they told those people about the funeral home, what if they're there when we bury him?! They have no right to-this is already too hard, I can't handle them too!"

"It's okay, it's okay," he tried to sooth her, as she cried into his shoulder, having reached her breaking point. "Nobody is going to make you talk about Sean, and they won't be at the funeral, we'll figure it out, but they won't be there." Matt's promise was tinged with anger at the mob of reporters.

"Matt?!" Both looked toward Cheryl's voice, as she appeared with Lia, Frank and Duff in tow. She took one look at the distraught couple, "What happened?"

"The CIA leaked our release to the press, and told them about the baby. They're outside now, they followed us here."

Cheryl looked out the glass doors and saw the mob had in fact reassembled itself outside the FBI building. "Oh Jesus."

"I was thinking we could get a hotel, but those vultures will no doubt find it." Matt was unmistakably pissed at the eager reporters.

"If we can find a way out of here, we can stay with my parents, Matt." Emily offered, wiping the last tears from her eyes. They hadn't seen her in two years, she was sure they would welcome her, even with Matt.

"Uh, you don't want to do that." Cheryl quashed the idea uneasily.

"Why?"

"I just got a call from them, they have an slightly smaller circus on their front lawn, wondering what the Lehman's know about their daughter's sudden reappearance and loss of their grandchild." Jacob and Samantha Lehman had frantically phoned Cheryl, demanding to know if Emily was back, and what the hell was this about a baby? She had explained the situation the best she could, and assured them that as soon as it was possible, Emily would call them.

"Damn it! I wanted to tell them myself. They should have heard that from me!" Emily covered her face with her hands, not sure how much more she could take.

"That's not your fault. You'll have a chance to talk to them later." Matt told her, hoping to keep her together until they found a place to crash for the night.

"How are you two on evasive maneuvers?" Cheryl suddenly asked Frank and Duff with a raised eyebrow and half grin.

"Do you even really need to ask?" Frank told her grinning ear to ear at the prospect of screwing with the mob upsetting his friends.

"Good, give us a plan."

"You ready to have some fun, Duff?" He grinned at his partner in crime.

"Burning for it, man."

--

Twenty minutes later Matt and Emily were in the back of Frank's HRT SUV, watching their friends prepare for their escape in parking garage under the FBI building. Duff had another HRT vehicle with Lia and an Agent Tom Pearson parked in the back, with a hefty warning that Pearson better keep his hands to himself. The tinted windows went a long way to hiding the identity of the figures in the back, but they'd also have to duck. Cheryl was waiting upstairs for their signal.

"You ready Duff?" Frank bellowed, getting in the driver's seat.

"I was conceived ready!" Duff bellowed back, hand on the shifter, working on backing out.

"Alright man, you're a go." Frank spoke into his earpiece this time, and watched as his colleague drove through the parking garage, maneuvering out after him.

"I'm at the gate, Frank." He responded.

"Copy that. You're on boss." Frank signaled Cheryl.

"Copy." Cheryl answered, pushing open the Bureau's front door and mumbling something about two stooges.

"Hello Folks, I'm an SAC with the Bureau, Cheryl Carerra. You people are all coming dangerously close to trespassing on government secured property. Neither the Bureau, nor Agents Flannery or Lehman have any comments about any recent events."

"You referred to them as Agents, is the Bureau reinstating them?" One reporter piped up.

"If I have anything to say about it."

"What do you mean?" The same reporter asked, just as a large black SUV drove out of the parking lot, two figures huddled in the back.

"That's them!" One reporter yelped, exciting the others into gathering gear and hopping in news vans. About half the reporters took off after the van, likely the half with the sleazier publications or broadcasts. The other half waited for Cheryl to speak again. A second news van emerged from the parking garage, and hauled ass down the street. The reporters watched curiously, but didn't follow.

"I'm impressed, I expected more of you to follow. But, since you didn't, you get a statement from me." Cameras were repositioned, photographers snapped pictures, and reporters waited eagerly.

"Matt Flannery and Emily Lehman have been cleared of all the charges against them. Alex Diallo, the young man they helped escape has also been cleared. That's all I'm able to say about the charges, and Alex. As for Matt and Emily, it's been very difficult for them, and would just like some piece and quite while they get their lives back." She finished and went back inside, before the remaining mini-mob could ask her any questions. She might get in a smidgen of trouble, being that she was officially cleared to speak on the topic, but she didn't care, the Bureau would just be happy that two of their agents weren't being prosecuted for treason and murder.

Meanwhile, Duff was pulling into a parking lot of a grocery store after taking the reporters on a wild goose chase. He climbed out of the car, as they were pulling in behind him, clambering from their news vans and frantically getting ready. Just as they were about ready to shoot, he opened the door and out popped Lia and Pearson, a bit shaken from their wild ride.

"What the hell?" One reporter blurted.

"Sorry, you all must have made a mistake. We just need some snacks for the break room." He grinned at them, pointing to the Grocery Mart sign behind them.

--

"How we doing back there?" Frank asked his companions, glancing in his rearview mirror.

"We're good, thanks." Matt told him.

"So, where are we going, Frank?." Emily mused.

"A little hotel room the Bureau keeps to stash witnesses the night before they have to testify. It isn't much, but it will hold you until tomorrow."

"If you'd seen some of the apartments we've had over the last two years, you'd know 'not much' is a luxury suite at the Hilton." She told him.

"I love people who aren't picky." He grinned at her.

"What's tomorrow?" Matt asked.

"What?"

"You said it will hold us until tomorrow, what's tomorrow?"

"Oh, well by then the vultures will have gotten tired and left, so we can stash you at Emily's parent's house. That work?"

"It's great. Thanks Frank, really. This means a lot to us." Emily told him.

"Hey, anybody that can hide well enough to keep three different government agencies off their backs, deserves a little help. How the hell did you guys pull that off anyway?"

"Lots of different names, moving around when ever someone got close, basically just stayed under their radar," Matt explained.

* * *

_Tried to make this one a bit lighter, I'm not so sure that worked real well though. It will get happy, it just can't be immediate, people don't bounce back that easily. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	14. Chapter 14

Just after eleven the next night, Matt and Emily were once again seated in the back of Frank's SUV, only minutes from Emily's parents. This time they had their suitcases with them, not that the two cases held too much, but it would be nice to have clothes and those few possessions left that meant something to them. Cheryl was sitting in the front, helping Frank navigate, not once asking Emily for assistance, though she undoubtedly knew the way easily.

Matt and Emily had spent the previous night quietly, though more than a little upset that they were still running, this time from a storm of press. They relaxed in each other's arms, just laying together, enjoying the familiarity of each other's bodies after a two-week separation. For two years all they had was each other to supply all the support, love, understanding, and emotional nourishment that a network of family and friends are generally responsible for. To be ripped apart so suddenly was painful for them, but at the same time, to be reunited in the same sudden fashion was jolting. They were adapting to having each other back, and to allowing themselves to need each other again.

Even more difficult though was adapting to being back in Los Angeles, and needing their friends again. Lia and Duff had visited with them yesterday afternoon, still mystified at actually having their friends back in the flesh, together. Lia was giddy and tried her best to keep the mood light, and for the most part it worked. As they were filled in on everything they'd missed the last two years, she got several smiles out of them, and even some laughter. But what really amused them was that tough man Duff seemed to have caught her giddiness and spoke with almost as much excitement as she did.

They been there when Cheryl and Frank came to the hotel, and joined in the conversation for a while, before announcing it was safe now to leave. It seems the press that had been camped out didn't stay interested for very long, not when there was an FBI agent giving a statement and another creating a decoy for the popular couple, elsewhere. They'd all cleared the lawn by late afternoon, grumbling after not getting anything from the Lehman's. So, after it had grown sufficiently late, they said goodbye Lia and Duff, and piled into the car with Frank and Cheryl, eager for someplace to settle for even a little while.

Their friends were being unbelievably understanding, not only were they growing to great pains to shield them from the press and playing chauffer, but they weren't asking the questions they deserved answers to. Not once did they ask where the couple had been for two years, nor did they ask what they'd been doing, or about Emily's boat trip. After Emily's reaction they also avoided asking about the Mexican document, and most importantly there was no mention of Sean. Anyone could see that any discussion on Sean would be off limits for quite some time.

"I think this one's it," Frank said, slowing and pointing out a house up ahead.

"Is it blue? I can't tell," Cheryl sighed in frustration.

"Uh, maybe or grey…ish?" He shrugged.

"They said it was a grey-blue."

"It's the one next to it," Emily offered from the back seat, looking stunned at the suburb she knew so well, she'd been convinced she'd never see again.

"Good enough for me." Frank shrugged and pulled up to the right house.

It became clear that this was in fact the correct house, when moments after they'd gotten out of the car, a woman came tearing across the lawn and wrapped her arms around Emily. Seconds later a man emerged, sprinting much like the woman, grabbing his daughter as soon as her mother let go.

"Oh god, we thought we'd never see you again!" Samantha Lehman exclaimed, tears streaming down her face, as she hugged and kissed her daughter.

"Yeah, me too, mom," Emily commented wiping away her own tears.

"I just can't believe it, we thought, we thought…we'll two years is a long time to go without a word from you." Jacob Lehman couldn't bring himself to admit they'd thought their daughter might be dead. He held her close again, kissing the top of her head, still in disbelief.

After a moment, Emily pulled back, choosing to make introductions. "I guess you both met Cheryl, and this is Frank Rogers, along with two of our other friends, they got the CIA to let us go."

They exchanged handshakes and pleasantries as Emily stood back beside Matt, grabbing his hand, his turn was next. After a moment, everyone turned back toward Emily, awaiting the next introduction; Cheryl and Frank couldn't help being curious about how this would go.

"And, this is Matt." Nothing was further needed than that. It was doubtful that they missed the speculative news reports, or not asked Cheryl about him.

Sam Lehman went right up to him and hugged him, startling Matt slightly, and shortly after Jake shook his hand firmly and offered a warm smile.

"I think we need to talk to you both about a few things." Emily wanted to talk to them before anything else broke in the news.

"If you need more time, we'll understand sweetie," Sam offered, kindly.

"No, it's okay mom. I'd rather you hear it from me now, than risk you getting it from the press later."

"Alright, we better go inside." She gestured them toward the door.

"Uh, we should actually be going," Cheryl gestured to herself and Frank, who was unloading the two suitcases with Matt.

"Oh? You're more than welcome to stay."

"Thank you, but really, I have a husband to get home to, and Frank has several girlfriends that need attention."

"Hey!" Frank said, mock defensively.

"Fine, maybe just two now." Cheryl rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, that's about right," he offered a self-deprecating grin and a shrug.

"Alright, if you're sure. But, I expect you to return for lunch sometime and bring these other two friends so Jake and I can thank you all properly for bringing our daughter home." Sam spoke as if Emily was a five year-old in a kidnapping case.

"We look forward to it, thank you." Cheryl conceded before she and Frank said their goodbyes to Matt and Emily, and popped into the HRT vehicle, heading back toward LA.

Once inside the house, Emily and Matt settled on the loveseat, waiting as her parents prepared coffee, weary from the traveling, and nervous about the impending discussion.

"So, let's get settled and you can tell us whatever you need to. Are you sure you want to do this now?" She asked them.

"Yeah, let me just grab something from my suitcase." Emily disappeared to the hallway where their suitcases sat, and returned only minutes later with a few things in her hands. She sat back down next to Matt, and took a sip of coffee, not sure how to begin.

"So, how about you tell us about where you went to after you disappeared." Jake figured that would be easy enough for them to talk about.

"Uh, Mexico, just south of Tijuana. We were there, for what five months?" Matt asked Emily.

"Yeah about that, and uh, right before we left we got this." She handed them the document written in Spanish, even though her parents wouldn't be able to read it. She needed the visual to assist her at that moment.

"It's in Spanish?" Jake commented curiously.

"What is it?"

"It's a marriage certificate. It's legal, we're married." Emily went silent, letting that sink in for a moment.

"Really? Well, congratulations." Sam seemed stunned by the news, but somewhat mellowed. Her husband seemed much the same, but after news of the baby, what else could be expected?

"Thanks."

"Did you have a ceremony?"

"Um, we found a priest in this tiny church and he performed ten minute nuptials and signed the paper for us." Emily shrugged. So maybe it wasn't every little girl's dream wedding, but it meant the world to both of them at the time, and still did.

"If you're happy with it sweetie than so are we," Jake hugged his daughter.

"Thanks Dad."

"Can I just ask what made you two decided to do this then?"

Matt and Emily looked at each other, they hadn't really thought too much about it, it wasn't like they actually had the opportunity to celebrate it much. Matt offered an explanation first.

"I guess it was that we really had nothing left to lose then, except each other, and Emily really means everything to me. The thought that we might lose each other if we were ever caught, I suppose this was kind of a buffer. Married, there's always something connecting us, even if we aren't physically together." Matt turned away slight, a little embarrassed that he'd rambled so much.

"Yeah, that's pretty much why," Emily agreed.

"Glad to hear it." Jake smiled at them approvingly, allowing Matt a considerable amount of relief.

"So, I'm pretty tired, but there's still something we need to talk about, the baby those reporters were asking you about…" This was the part that really made Emily nervous, and she could feel Matt tense up beside, equally as shaky about the subject.

"So there is a baby?" Her mother asked, confused hopefulness in her voice.

"There was a baby, actually," Matt said.

"No, there should have been, he never got a chance," Emily corrected, breathing in and out steadily so she could talk about him without crying.

"You miscarried?"

"Um, we found out I was pregnant almost four months ago, and about week ago I started get sick with cholera. I lost the baby a few days ago; I was about five months along. We hope to bury our son, Sean, as soon as the press quiets down."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry," her mother stroked her arm sympathetically, and her father squeezed her hand. Emily just nodded, struggling too hard to keep from crying to speak.

They could tell their daughter was having some difficulty with the topic, and if Matt's intense focus on his lap was any indication, he was having also having trouble with it. They decided to make it easy for their daughter and son-in-law to call it a night.

"Is there anything else you wanted to tell us tonight?"

Emily shook her head, and swallowed the lump in her throat with some difficulty. "No, that's it."

"Then how about we all turn in, you both look like you could use a little rest?"

"Sure, thanks mom."

"We have the guest room all set up for you, and you remember where everything is, right Emily?"

"Yes, of course I do." She turned to Matt, whose focus had shifted to the muted television playing the 11 o'clock news. There on the screen were two very freaked out, familiar faces, struggling to push through a mob. Emily hit the volume up, bringing voices into the living room.

"They haven't released any statements, but what we do know is that no government agency state or federal is pressing any charges against them. We do have this statement from their former supervisor at the FBI, Cheryl Carrera about their possible reinstatement to the FBI." It cut to a clip from Cheryl's impromptu press conference, and her, 'If I have anything to say about it' comment.

"This whole thing is just very bizarre and mysterious, don't you think? I mean nobody knows where they've been right?" The other anchor asked.

"No, and they aren't talking. And then there's those baby rumors." The two anchors shook their heads.

"I have to tell you, those two certainly earned their nicknames, Mulder and Scully, because this just seems too crazy to be real." The other anchor nodded in agreement.

"Well folks, that's going to wrap that for tonight, but incase any of you missed it, the two FBI fugitives Emily Lehman and Matt Flannery are both back in LA, and free, all charges have been dropped."

"And sports is next in two minutes, don't going away, we have-" Emily muted the TV again, and put her head in her hands for a moment. Matt stared at the muted TV, not sure what to think.

"Oh honey, don't you worry, they don't know what they're talking about." Sam tried to assure her in vain.

"Thanks, Mom. Goodnight." They didn't have the energy right then to bother worrying about the police report. Instead, grabbing their suitcases, Matt and Emily ascended the stairs, and crashed on their bed minutes later, completely exhausted.

* * *

_Okay, so at least the Mexican document led to something happy. Thank you for reading and reviewing. And, a little warning, the next chapter will be the baby's funeral, so it's going to be very sad. That should be the general end of the angst though, I hope._


	15. Chapter 15

**Three Days Later**

The press had yet to figure out that Matt and Emily were at her parent's house, basically because the two hadn't left it since they'd arrived. They made funeral arrangements for their son over the phone, and Lia and Duff picked a coffin for them. Truth be told, if they'd had to do that, neither would have made it without tears.

They chose a simple service right in the graveyard, open only to close friends and family, to be held early in the morning to avoid press. It would be quiet and small, considering they didn't have many close friends left since they fled. Emily's parents, and sister, Matt's father, Cheryl, Frank, Lia, and Duff would be there, and perhaps there would have been more, but it was short notice for people that hadn't heard from them in two years. It didn't matter though, this was plenty of people for them, as they were still adjusting to having more than just each other.

Matt's father and Emily's parents had evidently thrown most of their belongings into storage, so fortunately both had something black to wear. Frank and Duff had gladly gone on a recon mission two days ago, returning with a box of clothing for each, instead of information, the typical purpose of such a mission. They'd taken their paintball guns with them, and after battling each other to see who could get to the storage unit first, had left red splotches all over the place. Cheryl hadn't been amused.

This morning was it, but Matt and Emily were not ready, not even close. Could anybody ever really be ready to bury their own child? Emily had on a simple black dress that fell to her knees, and Matt wore a suit for the first time in well over two years. He never liked suits, but after living the way they had for two years, he had to admit, he felt human again. Emily was sitting on edge of the bed, clutching a piece of yellow clothing, when Matt appeared looking for her.

He sat down next to her, wrapped one arm around her and studied the little piece of clothing in her hands. The first and only item they had purchased for their son, completely on a whim. On one of the rare days they actually got out, they'd stumbled upon a baby store, and fell in love with the little yellow footie with a playful baby elephant sitting on it. The woman had the register had smiled at them and offered congratulations. They'd actually felt like a normal couple, like any other set of loving people shopping for their baby.

Emily was struggling not to cry as she held it, and wondering how the hell she was going to get through the funeral without someone having to scrape her off the floor. Matt pulled her against him, locking his fingers with hers, leaving the other to still hold the footie. Rather than continue staring at the footie, Emily, unlinked their fingers, and wrapped both her arms around him, pulling herself even tighter against him. Matt let his arms encircle her, as they tried in vain to offer each other even the tiniest amount of comfort.

"We need to go soon." Matt told her softly.

"I know." They were going early to the funeral home so Matt could see his son, and hold little Sean in his arms just once before they buried him forever. Emily had held him in the hospital before she'd left.

"We can do this Em."

"I know. I love you." After being together for so long, and everything they'd been through, it was easy for them to say, and they said it often.

"I love you too." He placed a kiss to her temple.

"We'll get through this." She said, reluctantly letting him go, so they could leave.

"Yeah, we will." He sighed, offering his hand, which she gratefully took, before they walked out of the room together.

* * *

They arrived at the funeral home twenty minutes later and waited anxiously for the director to come out with their son. Matt was scared. He was scared because seeing Sean lying dead in that coffin would solidify his death beyond just hearing the words and seeing Emily's slimmer figure. This was his son. Sure, his conception hadn't been perfect, but they were doing okay, they would have loved him. They hadn't even been given the chance.

Matt thoughts were interrupted by a door opening, and wheels squealing along the floor. The funeral director appeared, wheeling the smallest coffin Matt had ever seen in front of him. One half was open, and Matt swallowed as it came nearer, trying to calm his nerves about what he was about to see. And then, there it was. The tiny coffin was stained and lacquered wood, and the tiny little body was completely visible even with only one half open.

Sean had been only seven inches long and ten ounces when he was taken from his mother's womb. His tiny form was very thin, and wrapped in a light blue blanket. Even the smallest size of premie clothes would have swallowed the baby. If not for his obvious lack of development, Sean could have been sleeping. Matt breathed deeply in and out, his throat hitching every so often, as he tried to stem the flow of tears before they even started.

He gently lifted his child from his deathbed, and cradled the small figure to his chest. Matt was hypnotized with the baby, the beautiful little boy that he and Emily had created together. In so much darkness, in so much misery, in so much fear, they had created life from pure love. Life that had died in the midst of the fear, darkness and misery. He placed a kiss to the top of his son's head, and then laid the baby back in the coffin, tears already dotting his cheeks.

Matt turned to Emily, who likewise kissed their son softly, before allowing the funeral director to take him out to the waiting hearse. Both brushing away tears, they returned to the car they'd borrowed from Emily's mother, and drove silently to the funeral.

The picked their way through the stones, to the site where they'd lay their child to rest. Everyone else already waited for them there, but said nothing as they arrived. There would be time to offer condolences later, right now the couple was having a struggle maintaining their composure. When the hearse arrived, they all backed away to give them room to bring the coffin through. Hands flew to mouths, lumps formed in throats, and soft gasps could be heard at the sight of the tiny coffin. It was almost unimaginable.

They set it on the ground, and the small group gathered around the burial site again. Most couldn't take their eyes off that coffin, and couldn't stop their minds from picturing the tiny body that lay inside it. Cheryl cleared her throat, Matt and Emily had asked her to speak, as they were afraid couldn't manage it. She knew them both well, and had been their friend and defender through it all. There would be no priest, rabbi, or preacher of any sort; neither had gone to church since they were kids.

"Today we're gathered to bury a child that never had a chance. Sean Flannery was only twenty-one weeks when he died; he never got to see the world, and he never got to meet his parents. That's what is so unfair about this. There are so many children in this world without someone to love them, and Sean had two people who'd do anything to protect him, but were never even given a chance. And the rest of us never got the chance to meet him either. I bet he would have been something...I can just see a little boy, just like his parents, he would be the one trying to tell everyone else that they didn't need the toy guns in their game of cops and robbers. They could end their feud peacefully. And I would have paid money to see he first time he asked his daddy for a dog. But, what really amazes me about this little boy is that his parents never gave up on each other. They been running for a year and a half when he was conceived. No matter how bad it got they never gave up, and they never split up. Sean is proof of that, and proof that maybe all you really do need to survive is love. I know Matt and Emily had a lot of love for him, but they never got the chance to show it to him. And, I know that he was probably the only little speck of light you've had over the past two years, and to lose him like this...I can't imagine how hard this is for you. I'm so sorry for you both. I don't know if there is anything out there for us after we die, but if there is, I hope Sean is getting all the love there that he would have gotten here." As Cheryl finished, a few stray tears slipped from her eyes.

Emily's mother and Lia also had tears trickling down their cheeks, as Duff held her tightly. Matt and Emily were wrapped around each other, tears streaming from both their eyes as they watched their friends and family toss flowers onto their son's coffin. Then the mourners lined up, hugging the distraught couple, even Frank and Duff got past their macho-manness long enough to hug Matt. When everything was said and done, they lowered the baby's coffin, and the group watched the first shovel full of dirt land loudly on it. Emily abruptly turned away, and buried herself in Matt's shoulder, not able to watch them bury the body she'd held in her womb.

Together the group walked back through the pathways, to the gate to leave the graveyard. They were all parked on the street just beyond the gate, unable to bring their cars inside the small cemetery. Only the hearses were allowed to drive through the grounds. They saw the mob before it saw them. How they'd found out, god only knew, but the press was waiting to snap pictures and demand answers of the mourning couple. Once they'd spotted them, the quiet, coping mood was gone.

"Jesus, is there a back way outta here?" Frank asked annoyed.

"Frank, don't worry about it, they'll just follow us, and our cars out there anyway." Matt pointed beyond the mass.

"You sure, we could probably figure something out?"

Matt thought a moment and turned to Emily, "Will you be okay going through that?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She nodded, both them had red-rimmed eyes.

Matt nodded at Frank.

"Okay…hey Duff, come on, we're going to barrel through that crowd, give them a little room." Frank announced, jogging ahead of the group.

"Right behind you." Duff smiled and followed him toward the gate and excited crowd.

Just as they said, the two walked through the crowd, slowly, Matt and Emily close behind. Unfortunately, it only helped with the reporter and photographers in front, there were still many on the sides yelling questions at them, and snapping photos.

"Were you burying your baby here today!"

"How did it die!"

"Did you have a boy or girl!"

"What's it's name!" Emily felt a hand grasp her arm, and try yanking her to the side. She tried shaking herself loose, but the hand held firm.

"Emily, we heard there were complications in the pregnancy, is that true! Can you still have children!" The owner of the hand yanked her close to ask the question.

With that very personal question, Emily had had enough, and when the reporter turned to ask his photographer if he got the picture, Emily ripped her arm away, and slammed her fist into his face, rewarding him with a shiner he remember for a long time to come.

It happened so fast, Matt barely had the time to realize that Emily was out of his arms. He'd heard the questions, and wanted to hit the reporter himself, but was more concerned with Emily being pulled from his arms. He gathered her back close to him and continued walking as the reporter cursed in pain.

"That's assault!" He yelped angrily, much to the delight of Frank and Duff, who had turned at the questions, and saw Emily's right hook. They laughed as they plowed a path through the rest of the reporters.

Emily got in the car first, and Matt went around the to drivers side, while the reporters fortunately remained on the sidewalk.

"Get out of here, we'll see you back at yours parent's, Emily." Frank told them, tapping the car, signaling Matt to leave.

Only slightly disheartened, the reporters surged the rest of the group, earning many no comments, and a special finger gesture from Cheryl, who'd really had about enough of the circus. At least she knew, they couldn't print that picture.

* * *

_This should be the last depressing chapter, it'll be happier for the last couple chapters. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	16. Chapter 16

It was five days ago that Matt and Emily buried their son, and seemingly closed the door to their life on the run. Their bank accounts had been frozen while they ran, but were returned to them now. They had the keys to the storage unit they held everything from their apartment, and had an appointment the next day to meet with the Assistant Director of the L.A. Bureau office. This didn't help them at the moment as they sat in the Lehman leaving room, Emily at a computer, Matt with a catalogue in his lap, several newspapers spread around them. It was time for to look for an apartment. They didn't even know where to begin, who was going to want to rent to two former fugitives?

"This doesn't look so bad?" Matt seemed to question his assessment as he pointed out an ad in the 'Apartment Guide'.

"We've been living in the roach nest category for two years, not so bad sounds pretty good." Emily commented as she scrolled through internet listings.

"It's got a living room, bathroom, bedroom, and a real kitchen, for about twenty-one hundred a month."

"Circle it in blue." Emily had gotten aggravated earlier in that morning at the whole process and developed a color-coded system. Red was perfect, green was very good, blue was good, and yellow was if all else fails.

"This might be easier if we were employed, we'd know what we can afford."

"Well, if we can't get our jobs back when we see the AD tomorrow, we can add employment search to our list of things to do."

"I may as well start looking in the job section too." Matt turned the pages until he got to employment, and continued browsing.

"You're probably right, anything good in there?"

"Phone-sex operators." He grinned teasingly.

"I don't know if you're what they had in mind." She teased back.

"No? I think I'd do a great job. 'Hello, my name is Candy" Matt did his best impression of a female voice, which was so bad, Emily started laughing.

"Tell me there's something outside the sex-porn industry in there."

"You know Em, you have a PhD, you could probably get a job as a professor. You have teaching experience."

"What college is going to want a former fugitive teaching their students?" She looked at him sadly, at this point her PhD was probably useless.

"We were cleared, that has to count for something."

"We were still suspected for two years, that doesn't look good. I mean, what do we write in the reason for leaving last job line? Had to flee, suspected of treason and murder?"

"We'd get points for honesty." Matt shrugged, she was right, this wasn't going to be easy.

"This isn't going to be any better is it?" She wondered, letting her hands drop from the keyboard, and leaning back on the couch they occupied.

"That's not true. We won't be running, we have stability, friends that know our real names, and we don't have to worry about losing each other anymore. Nobody is going to find us and arrest us." He told her, leaning back beside, her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, you're right. It's just weird you know, I've gotten so used to hiding and lying. I'm still half expecting to end up back at that casino, or in our little apartment with guns going off outside the window."

"Yeah, I know. I woke up this morning and I was confused when I saw wallpaper and no water stains. It took me a minute to adjust back." Emily joined their fingers just as the doorbell rang.

Neither moved to get it, they'd been told they weren't allowed, just in case it was reporters. Soon enough they heard Sam Lehman scurry form the porch to get the door.

"Oh hello Ed." They heard her greet a man.

"Oh my, we'll thank you." Matt and Emily looked at each other in confusion, Sam seemed very surprised about something. They heard to door close and saw her come in carrying a large package.

"The postman brought a package for you two." She said walking toward them.

"What?" Emily asked confused looking at Matt. Who would send them a package?

"It's says it's from NBC/Universal?" She shrugged and handed them the package.

"This better not be some movie offer or something." Emily said angrily.

"I think this box is too big for that sort of thing…" Matt stared at the box like it might bite him, until Emily broke the tape seal with a key.

"We have a letter. It's says, "Miss Lehman and Mr. Flannery, After our news department did a story on the death of your son, we received several inquires from viewers interested in sending cards. Four days ago we posted our address as a place to collect mail, and received this influx soon after. The NBC/Universal family offers its sincerest condolences in you time of grieving." Emily read the note, growing more surprised as she went on.

Shortly after the funeral, somebody from the funeral home leaked information about their son and his death to the press. After a burst of renewed determination to question the couple, the press had appropriately quieted down.

"So this box is filled with condolence cards?" Matt wondered, taking in the large size of the box, one big enough to hold a small TV.

"Well that was very nice of them." Sam seemed like she almost didn't believe the press could be anything but a bunch of assholes.

"Yeah, that's nice of these people." Emily agreed, shocked over the box. Matt stopped staring, and grabbed a blue envelope, extracted the car and read. He passed it to Emily when he was done, and grabbed another one. They continued going through them for almost two hours when Matt yelped in surprise.

"What?" Emily asked, head flying up from a card covered in flowers and a bible verse.

"This one is from Georgie." He answered in disbelief.

"Really? What's he say?" Everybody they met in the last two years must think they're going crazy, seeing them as Feds.

"Uh…You two have everybody here at the casino in a perpetual state of shock. Nobody can believe that Dave and Krista, the quietest two people here, are really what the news says you are. Feds? The news said you were hostage negotiators or something, partners before you took off. I almost couldn't believe it, until they said you got yourselves into a mess trying to help some kid accused of something he didn't do. That sounds like something you two would do. Everybody here was so sorry to hear about the baby, our hearts go out to you. Georgie." Matt finished reading and absently handed her the card, still processing hearing from their former boss.

"Who's Georgie?" Sam asked.

"Uh, we worked for him while we were in Philadelphia." They had no intention of sharing with anybody the occupations they'd had the last two years.

"Oh, what did you do for him?"

"Mom, you don't want to know the kind of jobs we had the last two years, and we don't really want to think about them." Emily shook her head at the memories. Sam nodded quietly for a moment, before her eyes went wide.

"Oh god…you didn't…you weren't a…were you?" She didn't seem to want to say it, but Emily got it anyway.

"God mom, of course not! I would never do that, and Matt wouldn't even let me get a job as a stripper let alone a hooker." In fact as soon as Matt heard that he looked horrendously appalled at the idea.

"I'd sell my organs before I let that happen," he said gruffly. Sam looked considerably relieved.

"That's very chivalrous, but I'd like to think it wouldn't be necessary." Emily told him, resting a hand on his leg to calm him down.

"Let's just switch topics, I don't even want to think about that." Matt shook his head, desperately trying to get the thought of Emily as a prostitute out of it.

"Matt, did Jacob and I tell you happy we are to have you as a son-in-law?" Sam asked looking at him gratefully for his willingness to protect her daughter.

"Thank you, that means a lot to me." Matt was thrilled that he got along with her parents so well, considering how close his family wasn't.

* * *

Just over an two hours later, Matt was examining the apartments on the last resort list, and Emily was in a very long line at the courthouse. She held the Mexican marriage certificate in her hand, and was hoping the line would move faster. She was waiting to file the document with the L.A. government, so their marriage would be recognized by the state. A year ago maybe they would have been nervous about something like that, but after everything they'd been through, this had been the easiest decision of their lives. They didn't even talk have to talk about it, they were both just so sure of what they wanted when Emily mentioned the run to the courthouse.

She had hoped it would be a run, however it was rapidly becoming a painfully slow wait with several dozen other people. People who were actually quite moody, and clearly as impatient as she was, herself. There was a row of yellow plastic chairs to one side, and a TV hanging in the corner of the wall offering muted entertainment. The crowd alternately fanned themselves, stared at the TV boredly, corralled and disciplined children, spoke or grunted into cell phones, and a few particularly neurotic ones, checked, rechecked, and checked their paper work again. Emily was ten people back in the line, which was served by three windows and equally bored people.

Emily kept the disposable cell phones they'd used in Philadelphia, and held one in her hand now, gently rubbing the black plastic with her thumb. It was an absent gesture, allowing her hands to keep busy, while her mind ran circles. She was expecting Matt to call her any minute, and ask her what was taking so long. She was supposed to call him when she was done at the courthouse, and he'd meet her to look at the good apartments.

Matt would be visiting the 'last resort' apartments now, any one of which would undoubtedly be better than anything they'd lived in the last two years. This is part of the reason why it had be so hard for them to try and pick and apartment. Either they saw these 'last resort' apartments that felt familiar and comfortable to them, but cheap and left them feeling they could do better. But the nicer apartments felt like too much, like they really didn't need all that, they could do with so much less.

Two people finished and Emily moved up to number eight in the line, just as she glanced up to see her own face on TV. Great. What could they possibly be saying about them now? They'd already done stories on their return, the charges being dropped, the baby, his funeral, what the hell else was there? Then they showed a clip of an NBC newscast offering a place to send the condolence cards. Evidently, the other networks had picked up on that.

"Hey mommy, look! That lady's on TV!" A small, brown-haired boy pointed exuberantly back and forth between Emily and the TV set on the wall.

"Sweetie, don't be silly." The woman leaned down and patted her son's head.

"No, mommy, look!" Sure enough the woman looked at the TV when he pointed, and they flashed a shot of Matt and Emily struggling to break through the crowd of reporters.

"So she is. Don't point, it's rude." But now the woman's attention was on Emily, along with everyone else near where she was in the line.

"Damn, she one of those feds." A college-aged man grinned stupidly, testifying to his rapid beer and pot consumption. Two more people moved up in the line.

"You are, aren't you?" The man standing behind her asked; he was older and wearing business attire.

Emily remained silent, first looking forward, then to the side when the people in front of her joined the onlookers. People began whispering curiously to each other, and pulling out cell phones. Several variations of 'Yeah, yeah, it's her, I swear' were spoken excitedly to friends miles away.

"So where were you and your boyfriend for two years?" The same man behind her asked.

Emily continued to ignore him as two more people finished and she moved up to being only three people from the front.

"Hey there, I just have to ask, can I have your autograph?" Some bouncy twenty-something came up to her, her Barbie pink lips smacking up and down, revealing her green gum every now and again.

"Um, no. Sorry." Emily stuttered slightly, taken aback by the request, not prepared for her sudden semi-celebrity.

"Oh come on, just one little signature?" The woman grinned widely, as if she could charm Emily.

"Really, no." Emily insisted, growing more and more uncomfortable with the eyes on her.

"Honey it's just a little signature, and my friends will be so jealous!" She squealed the last part.

"I'm sorry I don't sign autographs, I'm not a celebrity." Emily was quickly losing her patience. Thankfully two more people moved to the front.

"Yeah, you are, whether you like it or not." The woman didn't look as cheery now.

Emily felt someone grab her arm, and turned abruptly, yanking her arm away, toward the man in front of her.

He held his hands up, and gestured her forward with a sympathetic smile, "Go ahead, you look like you need to get out of here."

"Uh, thank you." Emily stepped in front of him, and up to a newly vacated counter, not bothering to argue.

"How can I help you ma'am?" A woman in blue glasses asked her.

"I just need to submit this." Emily handed her the marriage certificate.

She looked at it and then called behind her, "Hey, Lupe! What does this say?"

Lupe came over and with visible irritation grabbed the document, "It's a marriage certificate. Congratulations."

"Alright, fill this out."

Emily scribbled the information on to the sheet she was handed, and she could feel the eyes boring into her back. She handed the sheet back a little too eagerly, startling the clerk, who looked it over, before nodding at her.

"Okay, looks good, it should go through in 9-14 business days, if there's any problems we'll call you. Next!" Emily wasn't the least bit offended by her abruptness, she wanted to get out of there as quick as possible. As she was power-walking through the door, her phone went off.

"Hello?" She asked, still slightly strained.

"Hey, you okay?" Matt's voice greeted her, instantly soothing her frazzled nerves.

"No, I'm okay, I was just recognized by some people in the courthouse, it was weird."

"You sure you're okay?

"Yeah, fine. How did the apartments look?" Emily practically jogged through the hallways, desperate to get out of the courthouse.

"I only saw three, but they were all pretty much what we expected. Good for backup, but a little closer to our previous apartments than we'd like." Truthfully, the visits had been quick, and Matt had found something better to do during that time.

"We expected that. Where are you now?"

"Outside the courthouse." Matt grinned through the phone line, knowing she'd be as happy to see him as he was her.

Emily's looked around and around as soon as she stepped out, her eyes barely catching a glimpse with her frantic movements. She heard the phone click off just as she finely caught sight of him, with much relief.

"Hey, how'd it go?" He asked as she approached him.

"Aside from becoming a celebrity? Fine." She wrapped her hands around his waist.

He kissed her, and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the courthouse, across the street to a small park.

"What are we doing?"

"I've got something for you." He told her, pulling her over to a bench.

"What?" She nearly fell, sitting on the bench, but managed to stay upright.

He grabbed her hand, "I know everything has been hard lately, but they'll get better, and we'll be together."

He suddenly let go of her hand, and sensing something, Emily looked at it, shocked to see a small silver band. Her head sprung up to look at him, clearly surprised by the gesture.

"They match." He held up his hand, smiling at her surprise.

"Yes, they do…can we afford this night now?"

"They're silver, and I couldn't get you an engagement ring, but I want us to have these. This is it Em, you're all I'll ever need." He interlocked his fingers with hers, his eyes still glued to hers.

"I knew that the first night we ran Matt. I was scared to death, but so much calmer than I had any right to be under the circumstances. I had you, nothing else mattered." Emily spoke the words softly, and without any trepidation, as she pressed herself against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, we lived through that." His words came out almost as a whisper.

"And, we'll live through this," she promised him, regardless of what 'this' might mean.

* * *

The next day Matt and Emily were waiting patiently outside the office of Henry Meyers, Assistant Director of L.A.'s Bureau branch. They'd spent the remainder of the previous day viewing apartments that they weren't even sure they could afford. They found two very nice places they probably couldn't have afforded even with both their jobs back, a third that was a dream come true, but on the high range, and three good ones that they were seriously considering. Now they just had to find jobs.

"Agents? The Assistant Director is ready for you now." His elderly secretary informed them gently with a smile.

"Thank you," The duo offered simultaneously, rising and heading toward the now opened door.

"Agent Flannery, Agent Lehman, please have a seat." Meyers gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. They did as they were told.

"So, how has it been adjusting back?"

"Aside from the press just fine," Matt answered for both.

"That's good to hear…so first, the Bureau and I personally, would like to extend our condolences on your son. My sister lost a baby, and I know how that can eat you up inside."

"Thank you." Matt once again answered for both of them, as Emily chose to remain mute.

"Are those wedding rings?" He blurted suddenly, catching site of the silver on Emily's finger, and looking toward Matt's hand.

"Yes sir."

"Well, congratulations then." Meyers shifted somewhat uncomfortably, evidently unprepared for that news.

"Thank you." This time Emily answered, while Matt watched Meyes fidgeting curiously.

"So, Agent Lehman, I supposed you aren't really Lehman anymore?"

"I haven't gotten the name change officially yet, but no, I suppose I'm not."

"Won't it be difficult for SAC Carrera to have two Agent Flannerys in her unit?" He wondered, completely forgetting he hadn't even offered them their positions back yet.

This became evident quickly by the surprised looks on their faces. Emily recovered first, "SAC Carrera actually refers to us by our first names, so I don't see it as an issue."

"Are you offering us our jobs back, sir?" Matt chose not to ignore that point.

"Oh, right. Sorry, yes, the Bureau has decided that it is in the best interest of the FBI to invite you both back to the L.A. CNU, though obviously not as partners."

"Just like that?" Matt blurted out.

"Off the record Agents? Recent events have led the press to be very sympathetic of you, understandably, and the FBI feels it's safer to grant you your positions back, rather than not and risk the press martyring you and demonizing the Bureau for it's blatant insensitivity. Sound less fishy now?"

"Yes sir. Thank you."

"There will be provisions though. A monthly review, then after three months, six months, and then a year, but if we're satisfied after that you'll be back to what you were. And of course, you'll have to requalify with weapons, I'm sure Agent Rogers will be a very enthusiastic instructor. And for the first two weeks, you'll just observe in the field, you're new partners will be primary until both you and SAC Carrera feel your ready for that. Sound reasonable?"

"Yes sir, very reasonable."

"Good, so…am I informing SAC Carrera that we'll no longer be sending her new recruits to rip into?"

"No, actually sir, I think we'd like to do that." Matt told him, relief flooding through his body.

Meyers gave them sort of an amused look, "I have no objection to that. Take the rest of the week to get settled and report to the CNU bright and early Monday morning."

"Looking forward to it, thank you sir." Emily answered, not quite able to believe it was this easy.

"Alright then, you're dismissed." He waved them from his office and turned back to his papers.

Matt and Emily walked out silently, both still a little stunned from the meeting, and boarded the elevator, smacking the down button. One, two, three floors up the doors opened and spit them into the CNU.

"Hey!" Lia turned in surprise as she walked by, seeing the elevator open to her friends.

"Hi, how's it going in here?"

"The usual. Cheryl's locked in her office on the phone, Frank and Duff are practicing again in the basement, Temple and Binder are on the verge of taking the two new recruits hostage, IA is pretty much dead at the moment. It's been a bit slow." She shrugged, smiling.

"Does Cheryl lock herself away a lot now?" Matt wondered, concerned.

"With those idiot duos that keep sending her to fill her two negotiator spots? Always. They pester her with questions, whine about god knows what, and are just generally inept. She learned that closing her door keeps them away."

"Poor Cheryl." Emily mumbled, staring entranced at the office she hadn't seen in two years, but had so many memories in.

"Poor us! She at least gets refuge, we don't."

"Are they really that bad?" Matt asked cringing.

"Well, we were spoiled, we used to have two of the Bureau's top negotiators working here, you know." She teased them.

"Really? Well, what would you say to getting them back?" Emily asked playing along, unable to keep from smiling at the always endearing Lia.

"What? Seriously?!" Lia blurted, head going back and forth between the two.

"Yes, but not until Monday."

"Oh my god!" Lia clapped her hands over her mouth excitedly, and then grabbed their hands excitedly, and dragged them into the office their cubicle occupied.

"Why are you being so loud Mathers?" Temple demanded unpleasantly from his stack of paperwork, before he saw Matt and Emily.

"Holy shit."

"What?" Binder asked, equally annoyed, but perhaps more so by the twenty-something man pestering him.

"Binder look."

"At what?" He turned in his seat to see what his partner was gaping over.

"Wha-whoa."

Matt and Emily suddenly felt like sideshow curiosities as all their former coworkers began looking up from desks and staring, shocked, at the couple.

"Close your mouths, I feel like we walked into an aquarium. Come on, let's go see Cheryl." Lia continued leading them across the floor, after chastising her colleagues. She knocked on Cheryl's door once, waited a minute and knocked again when it appeared she was being ignored.

"Caster, Jackman, whatever it is, look it up, for god's sake." Cheryl grumbled coming to her door.

"Relax, they're bugging Binder."

"Good for him. What's up Lia?" She asked, opening the door to allow the analyst entrance.

"Other than you needing a drink really badly?" Matt cracked, as he and Emily stepped in after Lia, shutting the door.

She swung around to see them, "How's everything been?"

"Better, slowly becoming better."

"That's good to hear. What brings you by here, is this a social call?"

"Not really. We just got out of a meeting with AD Meyers. He's reinstating us."

She turned to Emily, "Please tell me he's not lying."

"No, it's true, with provisions of course."

"I don't believe it. I can finally stop the parade of idiots?" Cheryl stared at them, thrilled, but almost unbelieving. She hadn't believed for a minute that the Bureau would welcome it's rogue agents back.

"Yeah, but you'll have to break up Temple and Binder, we can't be partners." Emily explained.

She shrugged. "They'll live."

Suddenly the door burst open. "Hey, they really are here," Frank announced to Duff as the two joined the small group in the office.

"What's going on?" Duff wondered.

"We've been reinstated." Matt told him.

"Really? Now that I wasn't expecting." Frank commented.

"The Bureau really agreed to that?" Duff asked.

"It was their idea, we just agreed to it."

"Damn, you must be thrilled." Frank directed the statement toward Cheryl.

"I'm giddy," she told him in complete deadpan. Cheryl giddy is something none of the people in the room ever expected to see.

"Oh, clearly."

"Maybe not giddy, but close enough. Actually, if you'll all excuse me for a moment, I have to go send two nimrods back to Quantico." Cheryl exited the office, leaving her friends amused and peering out the windows to watch.

"She really hates them doesn't she?"

"We all do. They are the worst of the pairs that Washington has sent. They just aren't ready for negotiating yet." Lia shook her head in disappointment.

Cheyrl returned moments later, looking almost serene and announced, "Welcome back."

* * *

_The epilogue will be posted soon hopefully to completely and finally settle everything. Thanks for reading, and thank you to my reviewers. Yay, the show's back on!_


	17. Epilogue

**13 Months Later**

Matt was exhausted as he pulled off his vest and stretched, handing it off to a young HRT agent to stow away in a basement closet. It was a Saturday, a gorgeous, sunny Saturday that Cheryl dragged him and Temple up at 4:15 in the morning to witness. A very disgruntled worker decided to take his fellow workers at the Gershwin Oil Refinery hostage. Now it was nearing 11:30, thankfully that same morning, and he and Temple were yawning and talking with Frank and Duff in HRT's basement territory.

Things had gone very well for Matt and Emily over the last year, and they were actually pretty happy. Their first review after being back after a month had gone satisfactorily, the three month review went better, the six month pretty damn good, and the one about a month ago made the higher-ups very happy. Two of their tops five agents were now maybe even the top two.

After running around desperate, scared, and with nothing but each other, they had even more insight into the HTs that came their way, and could talk to them better than maybe anybody the Bureau had ever seen. Cheryl was beyond thrilled, and had a consistent urge to shout 'I told you so' at everyone who had ever believed the pair capable of murder, and doubted them. Of course, her dream team wasn't together, but they were doing just fine with Temple and Binder. Though that pair missed working together, they were enjoying the change and had been friends with Matt and Emily before being partnered, so Cheryl didn't have to play referee.

"The next time some jackass decides to take hostages at four in the morning, can't we just put him on ice until nine?" Temple whined, trying to work out a knot in his lower back.

"I could arrange that for you." Frank grinned, gesturing with the very large weapon in his hand.

"At least this way we still get some of our Saturdays." Matt shrugged. He had been oddly positive since he got back, never whining about early morning HTs or the like, probably due to the fact that comparatively, he'd been in much worse spots.

"Good point. Anybody have plans?" Temple asked.

"Yeah, that sounds great babe, we'll be up soon." They could hear Duff talking on his phone before hanging up.

"Well, Duff has plans. What are you and Lia up to man?" Frank grinned at his friend.

"Picnic in the park." He smiled even as he waited for the teasing to commence.

"Very sweet. You're idea?" Frank laughed gently at his friend.

* * *

Emily's heart was racing as she tapped her foot impatiently in the elevator up to the CNU. She had just left their apartment and broke several speed limits, determined to get to the building in record time. She had to talk to Matt; not wanted to, not needed to, but absolutely, without question was going to talk to him within the next five minutes. 

The day after they got their jobs back they got a call about the dream apartment in the high price range, informing them that the price had been dropped significantly, but it was now a sale not rental agreement the owners were interested in. After a brief struggle with a few banks, they'd gotten a loan to put a down payment, and the first few mortgage payments. A fresh coat of paint, some wallpaper, curtains, and furniture from their storage unit later, it was their new home.

It had a large living room and attached dining room, kitchen large enough to have plenty of room to walk around and cook, two bedrooms and two full bathrooms, one attached to the master bedroom. The heat worked, as did the air conditioning, the water ran hot, not just lukewarm, and it was in the middle of one of L.A.'s nicest areas. They could no longer hear gunshots from their bedroom window; it was very quiet. Also, the press had eventually left them alone, and they'd actually kept the same phone number for seven months.

However, none of this anything to do with why Emily was about to jump out of her skin. She was excited and happy as a clam, but at the same time frightened and could feel her stomach twisted in knots. The worry and doubt were nagging at her like nothing she'd ever felt before. When the elevator doors opened, she nearly fell out she was so eager to find Matt. Looking around the CNU, her husband was nowhere in sight.

Cheryl and Lia were just outside Cheryl's office, studying some document when they saw her. They could see very clearly that something had Emily very agitated, but couldn't imagine what could have triggered that on a Saturday morning. Looking at each other in answerless question, the two women approached her.

"Emily, are you okay?" Lia rested a hand on her arm, getting the negotiator to stop looking around for a moment.

"Yeah, fine…have you seen Matt?" She didn't seem fine.

"He's in the basement with the guys. Did something happen?"

"Thanks." Emily didn't answer their question before whipping around, and entering the elevator again, jabbing the down button in an almost frantic manner.

Worriedly, Cheryl and Lia joined her in the elevator, concerned that she barely acknowledged them, just stared at the elevator numbers as they finally began counting down the floors.

They watched Emily stared forward and nibble on her lip in some thought she wasn't likely to share with them right then. They weren't Matt, and judging by the way each of her hands gripped the cuffs of her jacket tightly, she was pretty desperate to share this thought with him.

* * *

"Duff, when are you going to put a ring on her finger already?" Frank demanded, half-teasing, half serious. 

"I'm working on that. Can't seem to find the right ring, Lia has distinctive taste, I want to get her something really special." Truth be told, Duff had been searching for months to no avail.

"If she wants to marry you, she'll accept a piece of aluminum foil," Matt promised him.

"Yeah, maybe, but I still want to get her something she can show off."

"Have you tried looking at estate sales for antiques? Something like that would be distinctive enough for Lia."

"Where do I find an estate sale?"

"Try the newspaper, or just go to an antique store." Matt shrugged.

"You make this sound so simple, man." Duff was clearly not convinced.

Matt looked at Duff a minute before an answer came to him, "Do you love her?"

He nodded, "Sometimes I actually can't wait to get done with work, just to see her." Then Duff abruptly turned to Frank, "You laugh you die."

Frank giggled, holding up his hands in surrender. It would be so easy to tease Duff right then, almost too easy to enjoy it anyway.

"Then there you go," Matt told him, before quickly noticing the confused looks on his friends faces. "When you have nothing left in your life, but that one person that means everything to you, you begin to realize that all you want is to have her in you arms all the time, and nothing is simpler than that."

This was one of those times where Matt and Emily's friends almost envied them. They may have lost some of their happy, easygoing spark, but they gained a security with each other that most couples spend a lifetime trying to build. It went so far beyond implicit trust in each other; a friendship, a loyalty, a need, a love that seemed to be able to survive anything. Through their shared two years running together they formed a bond that was unlikely to ever be understood by anyone by them.

Frank went to comment, but was cutoff by the sound of three women traipsing very fast above them, and making their way down the steps into HRT's training area.

"Hey, couldn't wait?" Duff teased Lia before realizing that something else was going on.

Matt noticed the anxiety written over Emily's face as if it had been black marker, and he could see that Cheryl and Lia were following her out of concern. But, seemingly ignoring everybody and everything, Emily marched off the stairs and over to Matt, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling herself tight to his body.

Matt wrapped his arms around her, immediately worried that something wrong, something happened to upset her. They were pressed so tightly together he could feel her heart beating against his chest, racing faster than he'd ever thought possible. Had she run here? No, she wasn't sweaty or breathing heavy. He felt her lay her head on his shoulder and allow her body to relax against this, the tension slowly easing and her heartbeat showing the first signs of slowing.

This was one of the many times in the last year that the small group had felt almost like outsiders around the couple. Of course, they had been very straightforward with everything, telling them whatever they felt their friends needed to know, but after their return the couple obviously struggled to open themselves to others on a deeper emotional level.

They hadn't told anyone about where they lived or what they'd done for money for the twos years. All anybody knew about that time was that the bulk of it was spent in Mexico and Philadelphia, they were married in Mexico shortly before heading for Texas, Emily got pregnant in Philly, and lost the baby while trying to flee to the Marshall Islands. They never offered to elaborate further, and the few times anybody tried to ask, they'd switch the topic, or explain that they didn't feel like reliving everything.

Whether or not anyone would admit it, including themselves, Matt and Emily had changed. They knew what it felt like to be invisible, to not exist to anyone except each other. They'd lived in poverty, in apartments that barely stood, had faulty plumbing, no heat, or roaches. They worked illegally, set their morals aside, and dealt with whatever came their way. They had felt hopeless and desperate, even emotionally numbed to the point of feeling dead, relying on each other to bring them out of it.

Now they watched the duo curiously, wondering what was going on inside their heads.

Emily pulled her head off Matt's shoulder, and whispered in his ear, "I'm pregnant."

He whipped his head back to stare at her in shock, "Really?"

She nodded, her eyes beginning to water, "I'm scared."

He kissed her forehead, still in mild shock. "Me too."

They were still whispering to each other as she explained, "I'm not scared of having a baby, Matt. But, what if…Sean…I can't go through that again."

He brought his hand up and gently wiped her tears away with his thumb. "I know, I don't think I could either. But we have a home now and health insurance. We'll go to the doctor regularly, you'll get plenty of rest, and there will be no trips anywhere. It won't be that way again."

"We'll do it right this time?"

"Yeah, we'll do it right." Matt brushed a lock of hair back from her face.

"We're having a baby." Emily's voice cracked as she rested against him again. That was all she needed to hear from him, his reassurance that they wouldn't lose this baby. Even if it was something he really couldn't give, just that he believed it was enough.

Their five friends were still watching them, wondering what was going on, having heard nothing.

"We need to tell everyone, I think I worried Cheryl and Lia."

Instead of taking a moment to wonder how best to make such an announcement, in a fashion appropriate to only Matt Flannery, he turned and repeating Emily's words, blurted, "We're having a baby."

Their friends took on a similar stunned expression to the one they had nearly four years ago.

"You're good at that aren't you?" Emily asked, cocking her head, and offering an amused smile.

"I like to share happy news." He told her, grinning.

After gaining themselves back, five surprised people took turns giving their friends hugs and offering congratulations. It became clear to Lia and Cheryl why Emily had seemed so anxious, that baby inside her brought more than joy; it also brought fear.

But there was something special in this couple that allowed them to survive anything, and come out together, closer than had been before going in. The seven people in this room believed that the tiny little fetus in Emily's womb would grow to become a baby, and that that this baby would be born healthy and happy. The world couldn't be cruel enough to take two innocent lives from them.

Duff had a sudden thought that for now maybe he would settle for proposing with a piece of aluminum foil. The perfect ring was elusive, and watching the couple in front of him, he didn't know how much longer he would be able to wait. He wanted Lia to be his, and he wanted the world to know it. For the moment, he settled for snaking an arm around her, and allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder.

Matt and Emily were still scared, and would be until their child came screaming into the world, and was placed securely in their arms. But, both wanted this. They had understood this when they bought an apartment with two bedrooms. Sure, they had said it would be a guest bedroom, but both knew they wanted that room dressed up in blue or pink pastels and housing a crib and rocking chair.

They hadn't really set out to get pregnant, they had been too weary and frightened to hope, let alone make that conscious decision. They had already lost a child and were getting older, the odds were moving away from their favor. Had they made the decision to try and been unsuccessful, it wasn't something they could bounce back from easily.

Matt rested a hand on his wife's abdomen, right over where his child would be, and Emily placed hers beside his. Their imaginations allowed them to feel the life inside her. Today they put the past behind them forever, their future resting beneath their fingertips.

* * *

_This is it, the end of my longest story to date (just over 100 pages), and one that my imagination really got to run away with. Thank you to the handful of people that stayed with it and reviewed on most of the chapters. On that note, being that this is the end, I would really like to know what everyone thought overall, so please review. If not for that, than just to cheer me up on this long, rotten day as I'm still stuck at work. Thanks again to my readers and reviewers!_


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